


Within His Darkness

by motleystarshine



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Blindness, But it's warranted, Complicated Relationships, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Really bad cooking, Slow Burn, Smut, eventually, soul searching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-02-09 22:22:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12898068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/motleystarshine/pseuds/motleystarshine
Summary: The prince's companions split up during the darkness, each making their own way, training to be ready for Noctis's return. Ignis has more to get better at than the others, and even he isn't certain he'll be able to improve.ORHow Iggy Got His Groove BackORI didn't realize what I was getting in to when I started this.





	1. Chapter 1

When word came that Insomnia had fallen, that King Regis was dead and their home was gone, suddenly the King’s words at their departure made all the more sense. Ignis was struck not only by the loss of the great city, the great King, but…

 

He broke the news to the others, daring to hope despite having to believe the headlines. He pushed aside what _he_ was feeling, disregarded it in favor of the mood of the group. There was no time to be an individual with concerns of his own, not now. Still, the whole achingly silent drive back to the border, Ignis’s thoughts were distracted, wondering if the news was true or not.

 

If King Regis…

 

If the Kingsglaive…

 

His thoughts stuttered to a halt as he maneuvered the Regalia along the roads, surprised he had not realized before. Without the King, the Glaive would be powerless. Their magic came from the King’s power. He hadn’t noticed, of course, as _his_ power was tied to Noctis, but the city’s defenders would be without the strength of magic to fight with if King Regis had, indeed, fallen.

 

Ignis refused to accept the thought. Not until they knew for certain.

 

They went around the blockade, fighting their way through the MagiTek soldiers. Noctis pushed ahead, racing up to the top of the hill where they could see the city. Everyone slowed to a stop as the columns of smoke rising from the city could be seen. Behind Ignis, Prompto had his phone out. The broadcast was a lie, of course, but at least _part_ of it had to be true if the city had fallen.

 

Everyone took out their phones, calling loved ones, checking on friends…

 

All Ignis could do was send a text.

 

                **_I still owe you that apology._**

 

Lines were getting through, that much was proved by the call Noctis made to Cor and Gladio to Iris, but there was no quick reply to Ignis’s text. He was forced to let it go, entirely.

 

They continued on, back to Hammerhead to meet the Immortal, to the tombs so that Noctis could collect the royal weapon there and begin his Armiger. Ignis narrowed his focus to the situation at hand. He fought with the others, protected Noctis as they went. He could see that the others were all in fragile spirits, even though none of them would talk about it. Ignis did what he could for them all, keeping them together and keeping them fed.

 

Only at night was he unable to keep his thoughts disciplined.

 

At first the dreams were vague, hazy recollections of text conversations or the smell of her tea softening the bitter tang of his coffee. Ignis counted himself lucky that his dreams did not stray to that one awkward evening between them, even if the path of them was heading toward nightmares instead.

 

He began to dread the evenings, even as he warned Noct that they needed to stop because the roads wouldn’t be safe once the sun set. That Noctis was not even animated enough to protest spoke volumes about his mental state, but as his own thoughts grew darker, Ignis had no comfort to offer his Prince…

 

No.

 

His _King._

 

That unsettled him more than even his dark thoughts, that Noctis was now his King, and that Ignis was failing in the duty he had set his entire life’s ambition on.

 

He resolved himself not to falter.

 

It worked in his waking hours.

 

They were two-thirds of the way to Lestallum to meet Iris when all of what he was denying in himself – the guilt, the concern, the anger – came to a turbulent head after they bunked down in the tent for the night.

 

*

 

_The somber black and cream of the halls of the Citadel greeted Ignis, and that was how he knew he was dreaming. It had been weeks since they had been in Insomnia, and even then the halls were not so… bright. The passage way almost seemed over-exposed like one of Prompto’s failed candid shots. He walked, slowly, down the hallway that he was in. The halls of the Citadel were gilded, but also lined with crystal, and as he moved the crystal lit up, reacting as it always had to his talent._

 

_Ahead of him he could see the doors to the throne room. The advisers gathered there, and Ignis was familiar with it from his own visits as well as from attending to his uncle and looking in on matters for Noctis._

_Even though he knew it would not work, he tried to turn away from the heavily ornamented archway that opened in to the ash-black crystal of the throne room. He pushed on the doors in the hallway, and took a turn before entering, only to find himself once again facing the doors._

_Footsteps echoing behind him announced the presence of another in those halls, and Ignis turned to see who was approaching._

_The figure was made of darkness, with swaying fabric hung on it that did not make the outline of any of the Council or the uniforms of the Crownsguard. As the figure came closer, the lights in the hallway went out in their wake. The crystal-lined halls sparkled, casting light on the edges of the person, but not enough to illuminate their face in the growing darkness. Ignis knew this better than most, but he had never seen an outsider draw a response from the Citadel’s crystals before. It unsettled him._

_Fear was not something that Ignis was accustomed to, but the slow motion of the dark figure was menacing as it approached, bringing the darkness along behind it._

_Ignis backed away, hand reaching out for the door to the throne room, but the doors wouldn’t budge for him. What was never locked in Lucis, ever, was barred._

 

_He panicked-_

 

*

 

A firm hand on his chest woke Ignis thoroughly.

 

It was dark, still, and the others were asleep. In the scant light that made it in to the tent, Ignis knew it was Gladio who had roused him, Gladio who slept on the outside of the four of them, closest the zippered door.

 

The Shield said nothing, only nodded before removing his hand and dropping his head back to his pillow.

 

Rather than sleep and risk another nightmare, Ignis stared up at the darkness above him. He tried to remember what the Citadel was really like, how the light was soft and the stone was smooth. He thought of the intricate carvings of the crystal, and…

 

And the mages of the Kingsglaive, who made the crystal-encrusted halls sparkle as they passed.

 

He recalled his own, favorite Glaive, and their last meeting…

 

*

 

_The King’s mission came upon him suddenly. Regis had kept the plans for Noctis to meet Lunafreya in Altissia close to his chest, which was his right, but Ignis’s burden. He was coordinating with Cor about transportation, running through lists of what they would need to pack and what would be left behind, worrying idly about where the couple would stay when they returned when a firm grip caught him by the arm and he was pulled into one of the servants’ hallways and pressed to the wall. He just managed to stutter out the beginning syllables of a question when a pair of lips sealed to his own._

_His eyes closed instinctively. Without looking, he knew the lips and the body that pressed in to him, and though he was surprised she would kiss him after their last exchange, he wrapped his hands around the biceps of the arms that were pressing him in to the wall._

_When the kiss ended, both of them gasped for air. Zoriedd leaned her forehead against his chest. He could feel wisps of her dark, wavy hair against his neck, and put his arms around her properly. She smelled of smoke and brimstone, and the air around her was charged with the gravity of her magic._

_Ignis had questions, as he often did, about how she knew so much about the goings on in the Citadel. Kingsglaive or not, she shouldn’t have been privy to the King’s decision if he wasn’t, but just as she’d never asked how he knew her address, he didn’t care to answer._

_He was leaving, and she must know. They were quarreling, in a way, but she still came to find him before he was gone._

_That meant something, though he hadn’t the depth of experience with women – with any real relationship – to tell what._

_“Zori-” he began._

_Her hands came up between them, pressing his shoulders back against the wall. “Don’t,” she said, looking up at him. There were smudges of dirt and flecks of blood on her cheeks. She was still wearing the leather of her duty uniform, which meant she must have come straight from her most recent assignment. “Just… be safe,” she said, brown eyes staring hard at his collarbone._

_Ignis nodded, covering her hand with his own. With the arm still wrapped around her, he pulled her close to kiss her lips again._

_She came, leaning in to him, trapping their hands between them. This kiss was gentler, and broke much easier. Ignis was surprised at the softness in her eyes as she looked at him._

_It was not the kiss of someone who had moved on. That was not the look of someone who had moved on._

 

_She huffed a chuckle that sounded more like a sigh than any amusement, and said, “On the other side of this, you’re going to owe me one hell of an apology.”_

_He tightened his arm around her, wondering what she knew that he did not from all her comings and goings in and out of the city, from wherever or whatever had caused the flecks of blood on her. He thought something must be wrong, for this sort of urgency, now._

_A funny tightness in his chest overcame him, and he tightened his grip on her, gloved fingers sliding against the leather she was encased in. “Be… be sure you come to collect it,” he said, finding the words to reply at last._

_She gripped his hand, tightly. She looked like she might say more, and then… she didn’t. She nodded, once, and backed away, heading down the hallway away from the regular corridors. A moment more and she disappeared down the servants’ stair._

_Ignis had watched her go with her purposeful stride and her fluttering cape and he prayed – to the Astrals, to the Six, to the Lucii – that it wasn’t the last time they would ever meet._

 

*

 

Ignis played that scene in his head through, a memory on repeat. He polished it in his thoughts as the tent sides became lighter and the day began to overtake the night. He played it until his hands stopped shaking and he couldn’t remember the nightmare for the strength of the memory.

 

When at last he allowed himself to stop thinking that one exchange on repeat, he hated himself for _texting_ after the fall of the city.

 

He wasn’t surprised that it was days before her answer came.

 

                **_You might want to practice._**

 

One line, that was all, but it was enough to know that it had come from her, that somehow, somewhere she had survived the worst of the carnage and destruction with enough of herself left to reply.


	2. Chapter 2

There was not much time for texting, as things went on. He did not know what to say, and she did not offer much comment. But he knew that she was there, as she sent photos of her meals from time to time. He wondered if the photos were infrequent because she was not eating regularly or because she forgot to send them.

 

He replied, because he always remembered to reply, faithfully as he had been since she made him promise, years ago, not to get his head turned, with sights along the road that Prompto shot and the occasional snap of something from his recipe book.

 

The first time something came back from her that looked vaguely familiar, it had two words that followed it.

 

**_Meat substituted._ **

 

Which Ignis took to mean that her meals were not regular.

 

Still, it was enough to know that she was out there. It was… much like their relationship _before_ , and that was a comfort as everything else seemed to be falling apart.

 

Ignis wondered if she knew their route from the photos, given how much better traveled she is than he.

 

He tried to think of what she might say, if she were with them. As the hours passed on the trip to Altissia, he took his own photos for her. Just of the water as it passed by, the islands, and then the approach to the city itself.

 

Her response was trees and a campfire. Nondescript, but welcoming somehow. He could not tell where she was, but there were strips of meat over the fire. He came back to that photo, later, and noticed the guns leaning on the far right and the MagiTek parts scattered on the far left, just inside of the shot.

 

That dangerous thought, the one wondering about how the Glaive survived without magic, came back to him all at once. It didn’t matter that he knew how hard the Glaive was trained, or that he _knew_ how tightly knit together they were from it. What mattered was the MagiTek bullets and the daemons. What mattered was that the Glaive were only human, that the daemons were unending, and that she was out fighting Astrals-knew-where, with Six-knew-who for backup.

 

**_Fine dining, I see._ **

 

The reply was slow. His phone showed there was an incoming message, but the notification for typing hung up so long that he wondered whether there was an error or if she had hit a button and changed functions afterwards.

 

**_Guerrilla special._ **

 

That got a smile out of Ignis, one that caught the attention of Noctis where he lazed across from him.

 

Noctis’s attention drew Prompto’s. “Something good happen, Iggy?”

 

“It appears we’ll be in Altissia during the Summer Colors,” he replied.

 

“The Summer what?” Prompto asked.

 

Ignis gave the proper explanation of the summer festival in Altissia, ignoring the real answer for what was being asked of him. A part of him thought that if he shared Zoriedd with them, he’d lose the ability to separate his duty from…

 

From…

 

Noctis glanced at him out of half-lidded eyes, blue flashing in the afternoon sunlight under the sweep of black hair.

 

Ignis would give his life for Noctis, for the others, for the Crown.

 

That did not include sharing everything with them.

 

What he shared with Zoriedd was nothing they needed.

 

It was a small thing, of his own, as it had always been. He put his association with her the same place as the things he had chosen for himself – his glasses, his style – and kept quiet about it.

 

There wasn’t much time for texting, anyway.

 

His last photo to her was inside Altissia. He couldn’t say, if asked, what made him think to take the photo. The little restaurant was nothing special, just a handful of tables coming from a room with tile so old its mosaic pattern was fading, but the light from the candles in the bottles on the tables reminded him of the Solstice lights in the café they’d visited. So he took the photo and he sent it.

 

By the time she answered, he could no longer see to reply.

 

*


	3. Chapter 3

Sitting alone on the train as it took the three of them from the Imperial capital, Ignis was numb from the events that had transpired, from the loss of Noctis and Ardyn’s scheming. His own injury, his loss of sight, was nothing in compared to what had happened since. Ignis could almost _feel_ the light outside dwindling, feel the world turning to darkness without hope.

 

Prompto was seated beside him, sober and quiet. Gladio’s heavy presence was opposite them, the open seat by the window for where Noctis once sat, dozing at the window. The space between all of them felt like forever in the darkness.

 

“H-hey Iggy,” Prompto said. “Your phone buzzed… again.”

 

That was true, it had been buzzing, from time to time, since the accident. It wasn’t calls, instead it was the text alert.

 

“I noticed,” Ignis replied.

 

“Do you want me to… answer it for you?”

 

“I do not.”

 

“But whoever’s calling-”

 

“It’s the end of the damn world,” Gladio said, gruffly, “they’ll call back.”

 

“That is not true, and it is not a call,” Ignis said.

 

There was an awkward silence between the three of them. Ignis leaned his head back against the seat and closed his sightless eyes against the feeling of them pressing in on him. His thoughts turned to Zoriedd. The funny thing was, when they parted in the halls of the Citadel, he had not thought ‘the last time he _saw_ her’.

 

When the train stopped, they headed out of Imperial territory, once they’d accomplished that, they… drifted away from each other. Gladio left first, annoyed and angry and itching for a fight that Ignis knew he was unwilling to have with a compromised team mate around. Prompto was angry at Gladio for leaving, but _he_ all but smothered Ignis, doing everything for him, attempting to ‘help’ all the time. For a time, Ignis tolerated it. He let Prompto ‘help’ him, as it seemed to soothe something dark and empty in the young man who had lost his best friend. When it was obvious that any comfort Prompto felt in coddling Ignis was no longer working, Ignis had a quiet talk with the lad about what it meant that they were still a team, and how sometimes they had to work on their own to get strong. It was a difficult conversation to have, as ever since Prompto had begun training with the three of them he had been kind, caring, and an endearingly open person. Prompto was quick to laugh, to smile, and even without his sight, Ignis knew what expression the young man was making in response.

 

But Ignis knew he needed to learn to fend for himself. He had never been in a position where he couldn’t, before, and it was more disorienting than his lack of sight.

 

So away Ignis went, sightless out in to the darkening world. He fought when he had to and made the most of things. He wasn’t the same, and he wasn’t whole, but he survived.


	4. Chapter 4

He found his way to the sanctuary that was Lestallum, the first time, entirely by accident. There were whistles from above as he walked down the road, and then a call went out. He could hear the words, now, the way he could hear the rustle of daemons approaching from afar.

 

Some sort of barrier was ahead blocking the sound, and some sort of heavy, rusty door opened. People rushed out, in tactical formation, and a familiar voice called, “Ignis!”

 

It was Iris, he thought, heading in the direction she called from.

 

“It’s good to see you!” Iris said.

 

Her hand took his and she guided him past the barrier that was changing sound. He tipped his head as the sound changed – he had been away from manmade structures for a month or more and the way sound interplayed with pieces of city was entirely different from the wilderness.

 

Iris must have noticed his head tilt because she explained, “We had to wall off the entrances to the city to keep the daemons from wandering in,” as she guided him away from it, in to streets that had strange reflections of sound, like the tile and brick were filled with irregular shapes. “The only way in and out is through the gates. It’s how we make it safe. But there’s always someone on watch, just in case,” she assured him.

 

Without preamble or request, Iris launched in to a grand explanation of the lay of the land. Lestallum, she explained, was becoming a refuge. The Kingsglaive, she said, those who had survived were shoring up the area, returning the power so that the light of Lestallum could keep the survivors safe. The odd shapes that were causing the sound to bounce oddly were all the supplies that had been gathered in the city streets for the refugees and for the Glaive’s mission to restore the power.

 

She went on to point out the rally points, introducing him to the people in charge of running the City of Light. Mostly there were hunters and Glaive’s, though Iris pointed out that Cor was still around keeping everyone on their toes, so some of the Crownsguard must still have been about.

 

The sound of a camera shutter – even a digital one that only made noise because of programing – had Ignis tensing. Iris calmed him with a soft, “Ignore Vyv,” she said, “he’s still doing that thing with the cameras,” and ushered Ignis onward.

 

“You’ll be back to see me later,” Vyv huffed under his breath. It was too soft for Iris to hear, but Ignis could make out his snarked words perfectly.

 

His hearing seemed to have improved.

 

It did Ignis no favors as he passed some of the refugees. The opinion of himself and the other royal retainers bordered on hostility. Iris seemed to notice the tension the comments put in his muscles, and drew him away from the unhappy citizens as quickly as she could.

 

There were familiar people in the refuge city as well, even though Ignis couldn’t see them. Jeanne and Holly were making the power flow where it was needed, keeping things running.

 

Ignis was surprised to find Monica in charge of the information grid, dolling out hunts to the Glaive and the hunters alike. When Iris brought him over, she came around from behind her station to clasp hands forearms with Ignis, the old greeting of the Crownsguard.

 

“You survived,” she said, sounding pleased and grateful. “It’s good to see you, Adviser.”

 

“I think after so long, Ignis is more than appropriate,” he replied, recalling the scathing words he’d overheard.

 

“Time can’t erode respect,” Monica replied, her gloved hand still clasped in his.

 

“It can change a man’s title, though,” Ignis replied.

 

“That it can,” Monica allowed. “You’d never have thought Cor would put up with the slurring to his nickname the way he is these days, but it’s easier to focus on the task at hand than worry about all the words being thrown back and forth.”

 

“If you can, I can as well,” Ignis replied. “But if you’re not focusing on words…”

 

“All right, all right, you got it, Ignis,” Monica said, giving him his hand back. “I guess I just got a little carried away. It’s been so long since I’ve seen someone else from Insomnia that survived… call me a little sentimental.”

 

“That’s the strangest thing to be sentimental about,” Iris said. “I’m from Insomnia, you know. You see me every day.”

 

Monica made a soft noise in reply that wasn’t exactly words, and Ignis thought he could place what she was feeling. Iris was, certainly, from Insomnia. She was even a noble, though that hardly mattered now. She was not, however, Crownsguard. Meeting up again with Monica reminded him of the difference he felt when meeting someone else with the same training as him, someone who could be depended on to work for the future in the same way.

 

“I doubt she means any offence,” Ignis said, patting Iris on the shoulder.

 

“Everyone pretends I can’t fight,” Iris huffed.

 

Bootfalls behind Ignis alerted him to the approach of either hunters or Glaives. Whichever group it was, their purposeful stride spoke to them seeking out a hunt or a supply run. Monica excused herself, promising to catch up with Ignis again later, before turning her attention to assigning them a suitable task.

 

That left Ignis with Iris.

 

“You must be tired, after traveling for so long,” Iris said. She took him to where they served food in the city, a communal cafeteria with open air seating that faced – she said, anyway – the power plant. “You’ll be fine here,” she confided. “We put the cantina here so that if there was any problem with the power plant, everyone could see it. I’ll be back in a little while, I’m just going to find you somewhere to sleep, ok?”

 

Without waiting for him to answer, she set off. He remained seated where he was, making slow progress through his meal amid the other diners. It was barely after Iris’s footsteps had departed before the gossiping started.

 

Ignis ignored the whispers at the other tables about him, feeling, for the first time, alone.

 

Iris returned not too much later, claiming to be triumphant in securing him a place to sleep. She went on to explain that she would help in any way she could, that everyone did what they could in the City of Light.

 

From the way she phrased her words, she seemed to think Ignis other than a combatant.

 

When he corrected her, gently, by asking how Gladio and Prompto were faring, she stumbled over her words and explained that she had not heard from either of them in months.

 

But she had heard _of_ them.

 

She told him stories that she’d heard from the others – Cindy and Cid had seen Prompto most recently, riding a Chocobo out of nowhere on their last supply run and fending off a cluster of dolce to help them break back in to the garage. Gladio had been down at Galdin Quay, clearing the wharf of a trio of hobgoblins.

 

Her stories were sparse, and when she spoke of her brother she sounded lonely. As she spoke, they left the little cafeteria and she led the way to where he could sleep.

 

“And the Glaive,” Ignis asked as they walked, “how are they faring?”

 

It was an old wound, a deep one that festered within him. He had no pretentions of being able to save Zoriedd from anything, but his heart caught on the very thought of her. If she had survived beyond the last few months – he could not know as his phone had stopped buzzing, no doubt because he had stopped replying –  and the Glaive was still working to protect the people, he knew she would be among them. He did not know how that was possible, without the magic that they had all used, but he knew that something must be better than nothing.

 

“For the most part they run circles around us civilians. The hunters are hard pressed to keep up,” Iris replied. “They’re as formidable as the Crownguard, when you get down to it.”

 

“They’ve developed a way of fighting the daemons, then?”

 

“Of course, the way they’ve always done!” Iris said, matter-of-factually. Then she stilled. “Oh, you wouldn’t know, would you? This is your first time in Lestallum since the fall, isn’t it?”

 

Ignis did not remind her that it was.

 

“The magic came back to them, after the fall of Insomnia. No one knows exactly how or why, but as long as it works, no one’s second guessing it either.”

 

That was… curious.

 

“You should get some rest. I’ll introduce you to Libertus tomorrow, he’s in charge of the recruits and he can explain better than I can.”

 

“I appreciate all your help,” Ignis replied. He didn’t point out that he knew Libertus from Insomnia. Iris wouldn’t know that sort of thing – her having been a bit young to fraternize with anyone, and Gladio a forbidding presence over her shoulder whenever she was in sight or earshot of the Kingsglaive – and Ignis wasn’t much in the mood for making lengthy explanations. Besides, Libertus had some choice words for Ignis before, mostly misunderstanding but if Zoriedd still remembered _their_ argument there was no reason for Libertus to have cooled off about what he’d been angry about.

 

Iris brightened at his praise. They had come to the side of one of the three story buildings, Ignis thought, given the way his voice bounced about on the walls.

 

“I was able to find you someplace private,” she said, guiding his hand to the handle of a door and pushing it open with him. They stepped inside a narrow hallway. Iris led the way forward, until the air pressure changed and Ignis knew they were in a room. “There’s not a lot of space, but I thought… I thought you might prefer to be alone.”

 

“That’s quite thoughtful of you,” Ignis said.

 

Iris squeezed his hand before releasing it. “The door on the outside locks, so… if you feel like you need to, you can close yourself in. There’s a mattress and a blanket, but you might not need it. Lestallum’s been pretty temperate lately, and the space is so small you won’t have to worry about needing a heater. We can’t afford to waste too much electricity-”

 

“It will do nicely,” Ignis said.

 

Iris moved forward and gave him a hug, at a loss for words it seemed. Then she departed the little room he’d been given.

 

Alone, Ignis took a moment to inspect his quarters. The space was small, short, and he was certain it had been a store room at one point. But if Lestallum was where the refugees were making their stand, then space had to be at a premium. He went to sleep on the thin mattress under the blanket he’d been left.

 

His dreams were, predictably, of Noctis and the crystal, of Ardyn and his schemes. They were the same dreams, or variations of the same dreams, that he had been having since Noctis’s departure.

 

It felt as though it were a touch of madness, each night, every night.


	5. Chapter 5

In the morning, Ignis made his way down to join the populace before Iris could find him. He appreciated the help, but he would know nothing of the city’s changes if she escorted him everywhere. He made a few laps, finding the central stairs easily, when the commotion came.

 

Beckoning voices and hurrying footsteps echoed from the walls. He was familiar with the sounds. The Glaive, in action, moving down toward the gates and turning away down an alley he hadn’t yet explored.

 

Supplies had arrived, it seemed.

 

Ignis followed after, more slowly, listening as he went. There were sighs of relief, a few huffs of jealousy, but overall the mood of the rushing figures had lifted.

 

“No one makes an entrance quite like Z,” one of the men laughed as Ignis got down to the mouth of the little side street.

 

“I’m surprised Libertus hasn’t lost his eyebrows by now,” another voice said.

 

Surely, Ignis thought, it was not so easy as that to find someone after the world ended.

 

“Pipe down,” Libertus’s gruff voice bellowed. “And let the lady through, she’s earned a sit down after that last run, I’d say.”

 

There was a thumping sort of a sound, like fists beating against chests.

 

“You all do the same,” a familiar voice replied. “For hearth and home.”

 

The familiar rejoinder rose from the clustered voices, all calling back, “For hearth and home!”

 

Ignis was surprised to hear the shout echoed behind him, from up the main street and deeper in to the city. The refugees had certainly embraced their protectors.

 

“Now if you’ll all make quick with unloading the truck, I’m going to go and catch some shut eye.”

 

“You’ve earned it,” Libertus said, and a heavy slap on a leather-clad shoulder carried above the chuckles.

 

“Libertus,” the familiar voice said, “if you don’t cut that out, I’ll strangle you with your braids.”

 

“I’d like to see you try,” Libertus replied fondly. “Go get some sleep, Firebrand.”

 

The bodies around Ignis moved in to the side street, but he could hear a booted step heading closer to him. The tread slowed, and stopped.

 

“Ignis?” she asked.

 

The Astrals’ sense of humor left a lot to be desired. Not only was it _that easy_ to find someone, it was _that hard_ to go unnoticed even in a crowd of bodies. He didn’t know how to answer, so he stayed silent. He wasn’t truly certain it was her, anyway. It could be any number of women, or someone who had a similar timber of voice.

 

“You mean Scientia?” another man’s voice replied. “He just blew in from the darkness yesterday.” The man gave a grunt. “I suppose he came down here because of the commotion.”

 

Ignis backed away from the two of them, though he could hear her soft chuckle in reply. He did not wish to hear what reply she would give the Glaive that was carrying the supplies she had brought. He did not wish to be reminded that there were other men, whole men in the world that knew her and that shared more with her than he had.

 

She did not follow.

 

He retreated to the room he had been given, found it empty of people, and folded himself back down to the mattress. His stamina was returned, had long returned with all the walking he had done. He could not say how many miles on how many roads, but he was able enough for that, at least.

 

But he wasn’t prepared to confront _her_ , not so suddenly.


	6. Chapter 6

Even despite his wishes, Ignis knew he couldn’t hide in bed from the truth. The following day he came out to meet Iris. She was chipper, glad to see that he’d rested, and pleased to show him around to breakfast.

 

Ignis found himself regaled with stories of the Glaive as they went around Lestallum. He was pleased that there were so many able bodies working to help those who needed it most. He stopped in to meet with Monica again, glad of her steady, grounding presence, and then let Iris re-introduce him to Libertus. To Ignus’s surprise, the heavy-set man seemed genuinely pleased to see him again.

 

“That was years ago,” Libertus said when he saw the expression on Ignis’s face. “All on the same side, right?” he asked as they clasped hands.

 

“On the side of light,” Ignis agreed.

 

“I wasn’t sure any more of you lot survived,” Libertus said, “the reports were pure bull, but there was so much destruction it was hard to know who’d made it and who hadn’t.”

 

“We were away, when Insomnia fell,” Ignis found himself saying, as the two of them leaned together against the upper balcony that Libertus said overlooked the power plant. “King Regis had sent us on to meet Lady Lunafreya, knowing treachery awaited him.”

 

“You couldn’ta known,” Libertus replied. “The Glaive was surprised by it, and along the way there was in-fighting.”

 

“In-fighting?” Ignis asked.

 

Libertus took a breath, and Ignis could sense a conflicting feeling in him even before he spoke. “King Regis was a good king, but it looked like his peace treaty was going to abandon all the provinces. The Glaive weren’t all organized like you Crownsguard types. We just had the Captain and each other. And _Drautos,”_ Libertus spat the name like an epithet, “had turned and was working for the Niffs. Half the Glaive went down, fighting the traitors among us. The ones here are all we could find, less those out on missions like Firebrand.”

 

“Firebrand…”

 

Libertus chuckled. “I wasn’t expecting _any_ of the mages to make it. Always thoughta them more like support types, staying back out of the way. So, when the King fell and the magic failed, I thought the traitors would pick them off easier than the rest of us.”

 

“You seem to have been mistaken.”

 

“Glad about that,” Libertus said. “We’d be up a shit creek without a paddle if Firebrand and the others hadn’t turned up. Didn’t think much of it at first, just more bodies to put up the walls and find food for, but then when the magic came back…”

 

“Any idea how that happened?” Ignis asked, still uncertain of that particular miracle.

 

“No,” Libertus laughed, “and I ain’t askin’ lest they take it away. If the King or the Lucii see fit to give us the power to survive, I’ll take it with thanks and do what I can.”

 

“A welcome sentiment, these days.”

 

“You heard different somewhere?” Libertus asked. “Morra you Royal Retainer types skulkin’ about?”

 

“We all survived.”

 

“And the Prince? Ah, the King, I mean. I’m not the only one who’ll want to know about him.”

 

“The King will return,” Ignis said. “I cannot say when, but we must remain strong until he does.”

 

“Fat lotta help that is,” Libertus said. “Sky goin’ dark, more and more daemons on the prowl.”

 

“Noctis will return,” a voice from behind them said, “whether you badger his Adviser for information or not won’t speed up the process.”

 

“Easy there, Firebrand,” Libertus said, turning.

 

“I have a name, Libertus, a perfectly good one.”

 

“Zoriedd’s not nearly as catchy as _Firebrand_ ,” Libertus replied.

 

And there was that last bit of confirmation that had been missing the day before.

 

“Don’t let him bully you,” Zoriedd said, “he’s very good at giving people a hard time.”

 

There was no point denying the truth any longer, it was her. ‘Firebrand’ or ‘Z’ or whatever else the Glaive called her, Ignis knew who she was. He stiffened at her presence, aware that he was not who he had been when they last met, that he was changed, and that… things could not be, now, how he had wished them to be when they last met. No matter how much it pained his heart to admit it, it was true. He nodded to her suggestion, but didn’t turn around.

 

“You lookin’ for me, or for Crownsguard here?”

 

“Mostly you,” she replied. “On an errand. There’s word of some other survivors. We need to make a run out to Ostrum Gorge, and as you’re our _ambassador—_ ”

 

“I _told_ Vis that tripe was ridiculous. I don’t need a fancy title or anything,” Libertus gruffed out at her.

 

“Whether you want it or not, it’s what you’ve been doing. And unless you want to undo the Arbiter’s good work…” Zoriedd replied, leaving her comment open.

 

Libertus huffed, but didn’t argue the point.

 

“I thought you would want to come along for the ride,” Zoriedd finished.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Libertus agreed. “I’ll go and get my gear.”

 

“I’ll come too, if I may,” Ignis said.

 

“It’s not a cakewalk,” Libertus said. “It’s dangerous out there.”

 

“You never question _anyone_ who decides they want to fight,” she said.

 

“That ain’t true!”

 

“Iris doesn’t count. Gladio gave you _orders_ about her.”

 

Libertus made a scoffing noise.

 

“If Ignis wants to come, he comes,” she said. “We could use another trustworthy face, and he did make it all the way here from Gralea, and from what everyone said he walked up to the gate on his own. He can handle himself.”

 

Ignis didn’t know whether to be pleased or concerned that she stood up for his right to accompany the mission out in to the wilderness. He was surprised she’d looked in to information about him, and that she mentioned Gralea…

 

Rather than second guess his luck, he went to collect his gear. Monica pointed him in the direction of where Libertus and Zoriedd were waiting for him, and he went down with them, hearing before they arrived the voices of the Glaive and the hunters directing each other with short, familiar commands. There was some surprise from the others at his coming along with them, but no arguments when he climbed in to the back of one of the trucks with ‘Firebrand’ and Libertus . There were two heading out, and the Glaive all piled in to the back of one of them.

 

“Keep it simple, we’re on a pickup, not a hunt,” Libertus said to the others, voice raised over the rushing wind of their transport’s passing.

 

The driver slowed, shortly thereafter. “Problem on the road…” he sounded uncertain.

 

“You’re up, Firebrand,” Libertus said.

 

Ignis was uncertain what that meant, exactly, but he could feel Zoriedd get to her feet and move toward the cab of the vehicle. She set her feet in a wider stance, preparing for a change in the vehicle’s speed.

 

And then she cast her barrier spell, and the sightlessness behind his eyes lit with the magic of it all around them, stretched as wide as the two trucks pacing each other on the road.

 

Ignis heard, but didn’t comprehend, Libertus’s call for the vehicles to push through. Ignis was fixated on the standing figure of Zoriedd making a path for them through the daemons. The light that burned off her spell fell down on those in the back of the trucks, giving them outlines, and on the trucks themselves. He stared, lips parting, as he was able to see again, if only in one color and only for the length of the spell.

 

Nothing else on the mission made as much of an impression on him. There was a fight, but he mostly directed the refugees to the trucks. He was able to see only in fits and spurts, the flashes of the Glaive’s magic casting the world in a blue-white glow, but only for an instant.

 

By the time they were back in the trucks, packed and moving at a swift clip, Ignis found himself tired. He had thought his stamina was returned, but somehow just seeing had been enough to wear him out.

 

He did not feel himself nodding off in the back of the truck, but when he awoke, he could tell that he was back in Lestallum, still in the truck, and he wasn’t alone.

 

“This is hot,” Zoriedd said from beside him, putting a cup in to his left hand.

 

“You stayed with me?” Ignis asked.

 

“Libertus and the other Glaive are getting the folks settled. They’ve got to check in with Iris and the other organizers. This whole little city building was their idea, so when it comes to the logistics, I leave it to them. You they didn’t know what to do with. I doubt anyone does, anymore.”

 

“Iris seems to think I need to be kept tidied away.”

 

“She’s a sweet girl, but I agree with Gladio for now, she doesn’t need to see combat. Not like what we have out here, not now.”

 

Ignis nodded, settling the cup in his hands.

 

“Not like you to pass out,” she mentioned, gently.

 

“No,” Ignis agreed. “It is not. Even with my injury.”

 

They sat there in silence, backs against the cab of the truck, each holding a hot mug in their hands. It felt deceptively the same as how they always had been before, two cups of coffee and their backs to a wall somewhere. If Ignis pretended his eyes were just closed… it was almost the same.

 

He decided to pretend, just for a little while.

 

She sipped hers first, in companionable silence.

 

He wondered aloud, “Did you heat this for me?”

 

“I can’t serve you cold coffee, now can I?”

 

“Considering I owe you… an apology, you might consider it.”

 

“Ignis-” she began, cutting herself off before she said any more.

 

Her hesitation was like a bucket of cold water, reminding him of everything that was changed. She wasn’t Zoriedd anymore. Now she was ‘Firebrand’. And he wasn’t a charming noble in service to the prince and too busy for more than a few stolen moments of companionship over coffee, he was a damaged man who had failed his king and had nothing left to offer anyone.

 

He pushed aside the surge of disappointment that threatened to choke him.

 

“If that’s _changed—”_ he said, scowling more at himself than at her. “Then perhaps I’m mistaken and we have nothing more to say to each other.” Of everyone he knew, he couldn’t take coddling from her. “I’ll g-”

 

Her fist snatched him by the front of his jacket and he was jerked forward.

 

They had only kissed, _Before_ , the once. It had been a surprise when she’d ambushed him into that hallway, and a shock of warmth against his mouth.

 

This was better, and worse. Her lips were tense and it was more of a mashing together of mouths than a kiss. Their teeth banged together in a way that he felt in his jaw, but it was also real and warm. It was Zoriedd on his side of that abysmal nickname, and he brought a hand up to her shoulder to steady them both.

 

“I thought you were dead, you jerk,” she ground out, breath hot against his face.

 

Her grip on his jacket shifted, her hand fisting in the fabric. He could smell the coffee in her other hand, hear it splash out of the cup and to the truck bed. His heart beat was an anxious tattoo in his chest and he gripped her shoulder in response. She was speaking for both of them, just from different points on the road. He’d thought the same of her, for months after Insomnia fell-

 

“When you stopped texting, I thought… I knew you were in Altissia, and that you were injured. We were… there were reports that we intercepted, from the Niffs… they had the direction you were headed. In to the capital, so I… I thought that maybe you’d…”

 

“I did not die,” Ignis assured her.

 

“You could’ve said so,” she replied. She leaned forward, closer to him. He heard the scrape of her boots against the truck bed as she pulled her knees up and folded herself towards him, dropping her head to his collar bone.

 

Over the course of their acquaintance, she had ignored the boundaries of propriety on numerous occasions, enough that he was accustomed to her taking his hand or his arm to guide him along, enough that though they had remained friends he ought not have been surprised when she kissed him.

 

This, now, was the closest they had been together in five years.

 

 “I did not have the means at my disposal any longer,” Ignis said, putting aside his coffee so that he could put his arm around her shoulders. She was warm against him, so much warmer than he ever felt anymore, and in that warmth he didn’t think about what had happened, only her. “Despite the nature of our exchanges, I did not feel proper having another send the message for me.”

 

She chuckled against his neck, shaking her head. Her wavy curls brushed against his cheek. He could feel the tangle of them made by the wind from the mission. “Translation: They never even knew we were friends, did they?”

 

“I kept you to myself.”

 

She snorted at that, leaning away from him. He heard the coffee slosh in her mug as she moved. “You don’t have to try and make me feel special, after all this time.”

 

“Don’t I?” he asked. He reached out and steadied her arm, knowing where it was without having to think about it. “You are the only friend I’ve ever had that was outside of my duties. Telling the others, telling Noctis would mean sharing you with everything else on my calendar, and I wanted something apart from it.”

 

His words seemed to echoed in the air around them, ringing out like the last note of a song played in a cathedral. She didn’t respond, not for a long while, and when she did, it wasn’t what he expected.

 

“Just because the coffee’s hot doesn’t mean you don’t still owe me that apology.”

 

Not what he expected, but what he needed to hear anyway.

 

And Ignis chuckled, because of course she was still the same, even with a new name and a few years and the fall of the world around them. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

“Good. Now, tell me a story about this exhaustion.”

 

Having her bring up his injuries was a bit too much. Ignis pulled away, turning his face from her. “There is no story to tell there. I simply grew tired.”

 

Silence was his only answer to that, and as it stretched, he knew she doubted he was telling her the truth. He wondered how often she had looked at a text he sent from inside Insomnia with the same expression as whatever was on her face now.

 

Rather than answer, she leaned across him, gathering up his mug, and put it back in his hands. “If you say so,” she said, getting up and hopping out of the truck bed. “Don’t sleep out here, yeah? They’ll need the trucks if something comes up, and you don’t want to head past the walls unawares.”

 

Ignis nodded, listening to her footsteps on the dirty tiles of the little alleyway as she headed in to Lestallum, leaving him there to make his own way back or stay as he chose.

 


	7. Chapter 7

In the morning, Zoriedd descended from the bunk room with the usual kink in her neck and a feeling of tiredness around her eyes. It wasn’t that the apartments that had been converted to barracks were uncomfortable – they were quite spacious and the beds were far softer than what she was used to from the colloseum barracks back in Insomnia – but after years of having her own place and not staying with so many people unless she was out on a mission, it was difficult to rest when crammed in with so any sleeping bodies.

 

Logic dictated that the Glaive were safer close together, considering the mixed opinion of them with the regular citizens and the Hunters, but logic didn’t change the facts for her.

 

Still, it was better than the alternative. After the fall of Insomnia, she and the other Glaive had spent months fighting to keep the Empire busy to protect the Prince’s journey. When there were too few tents and not enough food to go around, everyone had slept close together for warmth and taken whatever rations they could get. Lestallum was a paradise in comparison to sleeping on the slopes of the southern mountains in Duscae or the flat, arid plateaus in Cleigne.

 

But better didn’t mean she was any less likely to drag all during the morning situation meetings.

 

Thankfully, Monica knew her problem and was ready with a cup of coffee when Zoriedd came down to find her spot in the corner of the cafeteria. Zoriedd took her coffee and her seat, perching in the corner of the room. She was one of the first people to come down that morning, as was often the case. Since she didn’t sleep well she often was among the first to arrive.

 

The morning meetings weren’t the formal affairs that she knew the Crownsguard were accustomed to, they weren’t even the routine debriefings of the Kingsglaive. Instead they were a continuation of the Hunter HQ routine that had been set up before the Glaive had come.

 

It was an informal meeting, for the most part, one that the Glaive and the Crownsguard were encouraged to attend after the Arbiter had made all three sides agree to work together. Zoriedd had been present when the Arbiter – an Insomnian woman who normally went by the name of Vis and was new to being a Hunter – had bullied the three representatives right out of a fight. It had been an impressive display, and in the hush that followed it, when no one knew how to react, Zoriedd had thrown her support behind the cooperation effort. Libertus and Monica had followed suit, and from there the groups had agreed, even if somewhat reluctantly.

 

Now the morning briefings went in stages. The Crownsguard – usually Monica – went first, announcing the changes in their logistical needs. Then the Hunters would go – usually Dave – announcing training opportunities for the new recruits, the situation of the outposts, and information on the daemons gathered from the returned missions. Then the Kingsglaive – usually Libertus – would go, announcing the hunts scheduled for the day and any missions already lined up. At the end of it all there was a little open forum for questions and answers, and then the three group leaders would confer about any changes needing to be made to the day’s schedule before orders were handed out among everyone.

 

The Glaive had the most official schedule of all of them, having specific numbers with specific talents.

 

After the Fall, after _the Betrayal_ in their own ranks, there were less of them than they liked. The Crownsguard were well trained soldiers, talented at their tasks, but with the magic returned it was the Glaive who did much of the heavy lifting on the missions. That required precise scheduling, because while the soldiers among them like Libertus could be sent whenever and wherever they were needed, they couldn’t be sent too far from the mages in case of disaster.

 

Everyone coming that morning trickled in, grabbing coffee or a piece of fruit or bread and arranging themselves at the tables scattered on the little balcony. Zoriedd watched them, curious as everyone took their seats.

 

The Crownsguard came in first, familiar faces if only because they were the easiest to spot in the flow of people in Lestallum. They still, generally, dressed in the black and silver of their organization, still stood with crisp shoulders and straight gazes. She didn’t know all of their names, but they were friendly enough. Then came the Glaive, all of whom she could put a name to. The Glaive had relaxed their standards of dress, only occasionally wearing pieces of what had once been their uniform, but there weren’t enough of them not to recognize them on sight, especially after the months of close fighting together before the magic had come back. Pyotra had dragged herself out of bed early enough for it, and she came over to flop down on the stone bench beside her. Then came the Hunters. Dave was already present, having arrived with Monica before Zoriedd even arrived.

 

“Did you hear about the Royal Retainer that blew in yesterday?” Pyotra asked, nudging her in the arm.

 

“I ran the mission with him,” Zoriedd replied.

 

“How did that go?” Pyotra asked, expression sobering. “I heard he’s the injured one, if you had to rely on him for backup-”

 

“What?” Zoriedd asked, shaking her head. “He was fine. It was pretty routine, honestly. Get the bodies to the trucks, same as every Thursday.”

 

“That’s not what I heard.”

 

“That’s how it went,” Zoriedd replied.

 

Vis came in, stretching her arms overhead. She looked like she’d rushed from bed to join the meeting that morning, but she still wasn’t the last of the Hunters to come. She found a cup of coffee and made her way over to the table closest to the corner, nodding to Zoriedd as she found her seat. She was joined, after a moment, by several other Hunters.

 

Hunters were the hardest to pick out from the ordinary citizens. They had no set uniform, no real formal organization other than ‘Dave’s in charge’, and many of them had taken a step up from citizen to Hunter after the Fall. Generally they were slightly dustier than the people just taking shelter in the City of Light, but that depended on the Hunter in question.

 

“If that’s everyone for the morning,” Monica said, “I’ll begin.”

 

There were murmurs of approval, and she did just that. The population was stable, in general, though there had been a few new arrivals the previous day. She mentioned those that had been collected on the run the afternoon before, and that one of the Royal Retainers had come to town, but didn’t dwell on it. She gave a progress report on the state of the power grid, and what would be required to maintain the current output as well as what would be needed for any expansion. She concluded her portion of the briefing with, “Currently the food supplies are holding well enough, but additional grains will be needed in a week, as well as any canned goods that can be found to supplement.”

 

Then it was turned over to Dave. He scratched the back of his neck with his clipboard as he gave an absent-minded greeting. “First off, anyone who needs weapons training – and you know the new folks better than I will, so pay attention – we’re doing daggers and spears this morning.” He looked up, pointedly at a few tables. “After breakfast, on the bridge out to the reactor. This afternoon will be sword and shield. Intermediate training today, and partnering for those who don’t know which end is sharp.”

 

Chuckles answered that, of which Zoriedd was one. Pyotra groaned at it, but took the good-natured elbow to her arm in stride.

 

“There’s herds that need some thinning out, which should do for some additional meat supply. I’m going to arrange escort for the hunts for tomorrow, unless it turns out we have any spares that need work. There’s been a shift in the patterns of the slimes on the…”

 

This was the part of the meeting that Zoriedd often let herself drift off during. Dave had plenty of worthwhile logistical information on the daemons and the hunts, but she was a mage and not a soldier, most of her talents went to escort barriers on the supply runs and location defenses. She would have loved to join in a hunt, to flex the muscles she had instead of just the magic, but with so few mages there wasn’t much to do about what she wanted. She had to do what was needed.

 

Instead she turned her thoughts to Ignis. Monica had left him as little more than a footnote in her reporting, but given the way that Pyotra had mentioned him, Zoriedd knew that his presence had been noted by the other refugees.

 

His injury was a shock, but it was good to see him after so long. It had been… what? Two years? Two and a half? It was hard to know just how long it had been since she last put eyes on him. With the dark glasses on she couldn’t see all of his expression, but he had been warm against her hands and his lips had been the same startled ones of their only previous kiss.

 

She was really going to have to stop doing that to him when she was overcome with stress or worry, he never complained but he never asked for it. It was like she was forcing it on him, and no matter how much she liked it, that just wasn’t fair to him.

 

Pyotra put a hand on her friend’s arm, and Zoriedd shook her head with a little sigh.

 

“That’s it for me,” Dave said, stepping aside. “Libertus?”

 

LIbertus gave a nod and stepped up. This was the part that the Glaive came for. “Thanks,” he said to Dave. “We’ve got Old Lestallum powered up, and the outpost is doing alright, but the out buildings in the area, where people can stay and where we can get supplies, are offline still. We need shards to get those areas online without eating in to the main power. So there’s four hunts scheduled to acquire shards. Pyotra, you and Ishten will be going with the shard hunters. There’s also a Bandersnatch and a Wyvern to take care of, the sooner the better. Dave’s info says they are both liable to be packed in with lesser daemons around them, so we’ll have to draw them out. We’re gonna start with the Bandersnatch. Firebrand, you’re on that hunt.”

 

Zoried nodded, chuckling when Pyotra pulled a disappointed face beside her.

 

“There’s pylons to look after, and supply runs to escort. We’ve got ten on for the next three days from the mages,” Libertus said. He looked over at Dave. “I can spare one for a food hunt.”

 

“I’ll get a crew together,” Dave said.

 

“That’s all the priorities I’ve got for the day,” Libertus said. “Monica’s got team assignments, coordinate with her if you need to shift anyone around.”

 

“That leaves us open for any discussion,” Monica said, glancing around the tables at those gathered.

 

A few concerns were brought up, some truck maintenance issues, the power supplies for the city. There was a request for volunteers to clear out the power plant again, which Dave snapped up for his recruit training. By the time the concerns were addressed, the rest of the workforce had come out to the cafeteria, and Monica turned to meet with them to dole out the work assignments.

 

Pyotra griped about her hunt, but Zoriedd pointed out to her that it was better to have a light mission after the heavy one she’d had the day before.

 

Then Zoriedd waited to see who was on her team.

 

Not just that, she checked Monica’s list to see if Ignis had been put on _any_ of the teams.

 

He hadn’t been.

 

“Why isn’t he going out?” Zoriedd asked Monica, taking her aside while everyone else went about breakfast and gearing up.

 

“Who?”

 

“Ignis,” Zoriedd said. “If we’re running four hunts and a food run, it’d be better to have more experienced fighters out.”

 

Monica’s usually placid expression shifted, looking stiff. “He’s just arrived in town,” she said. “It’s probably better to give him the time to settle in properly.”

 

Zoriedd frowned. That didn’t seem like something that _Monica_ would say about Ignis. The Crownsguard normally stuck together about deployment and strategy. Something about the way that Monica was acting, though… Zoriedd glanced over her shoulder, only to find Dave and Libertus both suddenly busying themselves about other work.

 

The Hunters had been reluctant to work with Ignis yesterday, btu she hadn’t thought they were so vehemently opposed to him.

 

As for the Glaive…

 

Well most of the Kingsglaive wouldn’t have much of an opinion on the Prince’s Strategist.

 

Libertus was another matter entirely.

 

“Then I’ll ask him on mine,” Zoriedd said, as much to the two men behind them as to Monica.

 

She didn’t give any of them an opportunity to comment or protest, turning on her heel as soon as she’d announced her intention and stalking out of the cafeteria.

 

How many years had it been since Insomnia? She wondered as she took the steps up to the overlook facing the power plant. She’d gotten an earful from Libertus – and after that particular mission he’d been enough of a wreck that she wasn’t surprised his friend hadn’t told him what’d happened – about loyalty and the like. Considering that the breakup had torn something vital from her chest, she hadn’t been willing to hear it. They had both shouted, loudly enough to bring their compatriots running to see what was going on.

 

“Three,” she said to herself softly. She flexed her hands, feeling the sting in her knuckles from that afternoon when she’d traded blows with Libertus. She’d given him a black eye, but his retaliatory hit had sent her halfway across the room. “It’s been three years since Insomnia.”

 

Zoriedd could only imagine what words had crossed between Libertus and Ignis, considering what he’d thought at the time.

 

Bracing her hands against the metal railing, Zoriedd stared at the power plant but didn’t really see it. She was reminded of a pipe dream they’d whispered to each other like a secret on a shared morning of freedom from duty. She could almost feel the well-worn sheets against her cheek as he pulled them up to keep the sunlight off them.

 

It hadn’t worked.

 

*

 

“If you’re trying to keep the sun off, you either need the blanket or some curtains,” she’d groused, pushing playfully at Nyx’s shoulder.

 

“Too much work,” Nyx replied, scooping his arm around her waist and drawing her close. “I’m better occupied.”

 

Zoriedd shook her head, but let herself be pulled in. He smelled faintly of sex, and sweat, with a little of the crackle of magic about him. She closed her eyes, drifting back off.

 

“We should get out of the city,” he said, cheek against her forehead.

 

“Usually when we do that we end up having to work,” Zoriedd replied.

 

“Doesn’t have to be the only reason we go,” he replied.

 

“Ok, then,” Zoriedd said, peeking an eye open to watch the rise and fall of his chest. “Where should we go?”

 

“Lestallum,” Nyx said after a moment. “If we’re going to get sun, might as well get it with a view.”

 

“Halfway to nowhere,” Zoriedd said.

 

“Would that really be so bad?” he asked, fingers splayed against the bare skin of her back.

 

It was a quiet morning, despite the sunshine waking them both too early. There was nothing to do and nowhere to go.

 

And that was part of what made it perfect.

 

“So long as I’m the one driving, it’ll suit me just fine.”

 

*

 

The booted footfalls closing in on her were familiar, but not the ones she was daydreaming about. Zoriedd kept her eyes closed as Libertus came up beside her, tucking the hurt part of her in on itself to keep it from view.

 

“Listen, Firebrand,” he said, “it’s not how you think.”

 

“Which isn’t?” Zoriedd asked, keeping her eyes closed. “The part where you’ve got a grudge against a man for a misunderstanding from years ago, or the part where you’re leaving a fighter out of the ranks.”

 

“Both,” Libertus huffed. “We set up the deployment rosters to keep everyone as safe as we can-”

 

“Nothing about our situation is safe,” Zoriedd grumbled. “We can’t even keep the daemons out of the power plant!”

 

“Keep your voice down,” Libertus said, stepping closer and putting a hand on her shoulder.

 

When Libertus’s hand touched her, there was no hum of accompanying magic. It was just a big, warm hand. Still it was a point of contact with another person, and that was enough to draw her eyes open. She stared at the power plant, watching the dark figures flicker in the shadows.

 

“I can whisper it if you like, it won’t make it less true,” she said, obligingly keeping her voice low enough so that it wouldn’t carry to any listening ears.

 

“No one knows how he’ll be on a mission,” Libertus said, “it’s not safe to throw him in without testing his skills.”

 

“He’s _Crownsguard_ , Libertus,” Zoriedd said, looking up at him. “And one of the Royal Retinue. He’s got skills.”

 

“He’s _got_ an injury,” he replied. “One that _can’t_ help but to have affected the skills you’re goin’ on about. He’s blind.”

 

“Didn’t seem to keep him on the sidelines yesterday,” Zoriedd replied. “And if I know anything about Ignis, I know that he’s determined to do his duty.”

 

“What duty?” Libertus growled. “The King’s dead!”

 

“Now who needs to keep their voice down?” Zoriedd asked, turning to take her shoulder out of his grip. “Noctis is the King, now, and Ignis will do whatever it takes to see the King’s mission fulfilled.”

 

Libertus glared at her, and Zoriedd stared right back.

 

Whatever else they might have said to one another was interrupted by a chipper voice saying, “Sorry to interrupt.”

 

The voice belonged to Lady Iris Amicitia, who ran the clothing shop. Lady Iris, who the Crownsguard went out of their way to look after, whom everyone seemed united in keeping away from danger. She was standing several feet away, hands tucked behind her back.

 

“Monica said I could be of some assistance?” Lady Iris said.

 

“With what?” Libertus asked, voice still gruff with his frustration.

 

“She said that Zoriedd was looking for Ignis.”

 

Before Libertus could do more than flinch, Zoriedd stepped away from him, moving to join Lady Iris. “I was, actually, I’m looking for his help with a run this morning.”

 

“Oh, really?” Lady Iris asked, brightening further. “I can show you where he’s staying,” she said, “it’s this way.”

 

Zoriedd nodded, and the two of them headed away without a backward glance at Libertus. It was still early, the sky still the same washed out gray it was when the sun seemed late in rising or early in setting. Lady Iris’s steps slowed once they were out of sight of Libertus, her heeled boots clicking more slowly against the stone steps.

 

But she didn’t say anything as they went, keeping whatever had sobered her thoughts to herself.

 

They went down the main stairs, almost to the level of the entry area, and then Iris turned them both off to one side and in to a bit of an alley. The buildings on either side of it were tall, three and four stories up. That part of the alley was closed in, with the upper stories of the buildings closed off with no windows, only old electrical wires and boxes protruding into the space overhead other than the now unused air conditioning units.

 

“He may already be up and about,” Lady Iris said, sounding apologetic. “When I came to get him yesterday he’d already gone. Out on a mission, Monica said.”

 

“He helped with the pickup in Ostrum Gorge yesterday,” Zoriedd said. “It was good to have another pair of hands.”

 

“Oh.” Lady Iris blinked for a moment and then nodded to herself. “I only saw him in the cafeteria since then. He couldn’t see me, so…”

 

The stiffness of their limited acquaintance wasn’t the only reason this conversation was uncomfortably silent. Zoriedd got the feeling that Lady Iris had something else she meant to say. It was just like a noble to wander around the point they wanted to make.

 

“So he didn’t notice you saw him,” Zoriedd finished for her. She’d never liked the roundabout method of holding a conversation, it had always bothered her about dealing with anyone of rank in Insomnia.

 

“Right,” Lady Iris said, letting out a nervous, breathy chuckle.

 

“If you have something to say to me, you’re better off coming out and saying it. We sort of left all the formalities and protocols back in Insomnia.”

 

“We left most of them, but not all,” Lady Iris said.

 

She stopped walking, giving Zoriedd no choice but to do the same as she didn’t know their destination.

 

“I can still be grateful to the people that are protecting everyone,” Lady Iris said. “Especially when they’re looking after Ignis.”

 

“Dragging him out to battle isn’t generally considered looking after him, at least not if you ask everyone else.”

 

“It’s what he needs, though,” Lady Iris replied. “I can find him a place to sleep, new clothes if they wear out, and food to eat, but that’s not enough for someone like him. He’s too much like Gladio, that won’t get him through.”

 

“Meaning-?”

 

“Meaning thank you, for not trying to put him on the sidelines.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Zoriedd replied. She supposed that sentiment was true enough, anyway. She hadn’t taken Ignis along because she was looking for thanks, she’d taken him along because he wanted to go.

 

This morning’s mission was… that was different.

 

“His room is the one at the end of the alley,” Lady Iris said, gesturing down a relatively clean but largely ignore little off-shoot between two tall buildings. “I’d come with you, but you’re probably better off discussing this sort of thing with him directly. I come off as a little sister.”

 

“Right,” Zoriedd replied, unsure how else to respond to the friendly words from her. “I’ll let you know how it goes, how about that?”

 

“I’d appreciate it,” Lady Iris said brightly. Then she took a step back, motioning her to head on forward.

 

Zoriedd tried not to take that entire strange exchange the wrong way. What she knew of Ignis was different than what Lady Iris Amicitia knew of him. Lady Iris was acquainted with Ignis as he was a member of the Royal Retinue. She likely didn’t know the frustrated look he got when he failed at something, or that sweat and a hard workout released his hair from its styled captivity. It didn’t mean that she and Ignis – or _Scientia_ , as she used to call him – were always friends, but Zoriedd’s experience of him was that of a peer.

 

Rather than worry about that, she headed in to the little alley and went to knock on the door that Lady Iris had indicated.

 

It was only a moment or two before the door opened. “May I help you?” Ignis asked.

 

“Actually, you can,” Zoriedd said.

 


	8. Chapter 8

To say that the mission had not gone as planned would be an exercise in understatement.

 

Alone in his quiet little room, Ignis would not allow himself the comfort of understatement.

 

The mission had been a _disaster_.

 

Ignis would not have called himself flattered by Zoriedd’s invitation to join the Hunt she was scheduled on. On the contrary, he’d been apprehensive of the request, but hers had been the first such request since his arrival in the City of Light and if he wished to be considered a combatant there in Lestallum he needed to enter actual combat. He likewise did not flatter himself with any grandiose ideas of his usefulness, he knew he had been looked over as even a participant in the work being done by the active factions in the city. Zoriedd’s invitation did not change the general opinion, of that he was certain.

 

He kept hold of his frustration – with his injury, with yet again having to prove himself worthy, with _himself_ – by sheer, belligerent will. It was that same strength of will that had gotten him through countless other stressful situations that would otherwise have broken him in the past.

 

And her invitation did, at least, lighten his spirit for a time, but the results of the mission undid any good that the invitation had done.

 

After what had happened in Altissia, Ignis had struggled to find a way to contribute to a fight. He had been, quite literally, fighting blind. He’d had to rely on a stick to keep him balance over the terrain they traversed, and that had taken him down one hand with which to wield a weapon. It had been clumsy and inefficient.

 

His senses, at that time, had not yet attuned properly. They could not have been, because the pain he was in had not yet subsided enough for him to comprehend the changes that he had undergone. There had been no time to rest up enough so that the pain of his injuries could fade. The constant motion either stiffened what had been injured or exhausted him to the point of near-reinjury.

 

The comprehension had come slowly during their travels, and it was not until after Zegnautus Keep that he had truly come to find a small bit of balance within him.

 

And by then, with the loss of Noctis to the Crystal, the desperation loomed over him.

 

In the shadow of that looming darkness, Ignis had found that terrain was oftentimes familiar to him. He could not explain, if asked, how he knew to step over obstacles or avoid hazards, but he did. His hearing was improved, or rather he was more aware of what he heard, so it could be that the noise of walking itself was enough to transmit the data he needed. That freed both hands for weaponry. While he was not as adept at finding the target he was aiming for as he had once been, his strength had not diminished in the slightest.

 

Their arrival from the field camp was silent. Not because of any pre-determined attempt at stealth, but because of the awkwardness among the fighters. The Bandersnatch was enough of a priority that not only were there Glaive assigned to the hunt, but also a Hunter. He had overheard one of the Glaive – a young man whose name Ignis had not caught prior to departure – muttering about Crownsguard oversight, only the be smacked audibly in the shoulder by another of their number.

 

The little promontory where they would face the Bandersnatch was littered with enemies preceding the daemon’s arrival, and clearing them out was a chore, even with as many bodies as they had on hand to do the work.

 

As had happened on the mission prior, the magic cast by the Glaive gave little spots of light to his darkened vision. The little bits of color had the same wearying affect on him, but as he was prepared for it he was able to use it to his advantage. With the colors and the sounds of the battle, he found targets more easily.

 

Trouble first arose as the Bandersnatch neared them. The commotion of the fighting had drawn out the Bandersnatch, but the last wave of monsters was not entirely felled when _three_ of them came tromping out of the trees.

 

The Glaive rallied, turning to their new enemies, and in flashes of magic that lit his sight, the unit of them attacked.

 

 _Ignoring_ the shouts of caution from the Hunter among them.

 

Ignis entered the fray, moving from daggers to spear at the Hunter’s instruction, and for a short while it seemed things were working.

 

Then it all came falling apart.

 

A pained scream was followed by a roar, and there was a collective flash of warp strikes as the Glaive oriented on their injured number. The injured one of them was rescued and the Bandersnatch beaten back.

 

It would have worked flawlessly, but the Bandersnatch had come in a pack of three.

 

The battle descended in to chaos as the other two reoriented on the fighters and closed in.

 

The Glaive had numbered three when the hunt began, but all three of them were occupied: one downed with an injury; another casting magic that, by its telltale green glow, must be healing magic; and a third holding up a barrier to shield the two of them.

 

Ignis’s eyes were fixated on the glow of that barrier. He knew it to be Zoriedd’s.

 

The two Bandersnatch pounded in to the shield being held, and Ignis gritted his teeth, waiting for the proper moment to lend assistance. He found it when the tide of lesser daemons he and their Hunter companion were still clearing away were whittled down to two, and he turned to throw himself in to assaulting the attacking Bandersnatch.

 

In the bounce-light of the shield, still being held valiantly against the onslaught, Ignis could see the positions of the Bandersnatch. There were no more flickers of green from within the shield, which meant either the healing was finished or the Glaive casting the healing had too little magic to continue. He sought to make a hole for them, striking the exposed flank of the nearest Bandersnatch.

 

The Bandersnatch Ignis struck reoriented itself, swinging a viciously spiked tail straight for him.

 

The spikes missed, but the thick-skinned trunk of the tail hit Ignis hard enough to throw him off to the side. That was a heavy blow, but nothing more or less painful than what he was already accustomed to enduring in daemon fights. He hit the ground neared the water, slightly dazed.

 

In the fray, the protective shield burst into a million shards of light and three answering firefly-flickers of warp-strikes followed it.

 

Ignis gathered himself back to his feet, more slowly than he used to. The Bandersnatch he’d drawn the attention of oriented on him, lumbering forward with its tusks lowered like a plow. He knew even as he started to dodge that it would be too late, that he was moving too slow to avoid it.

 

A flash of blue announced one of the Glaive had impacted the creature in the side, blade and feet first. The Bandersnatch veered off, giving Ignis the space to dodge. He regained his feet quickly, turning his spear in to the daemon’s neck.

 

The Bandersnatch careened to the side, splashing in to the water and losing its footing. There was a triumphant sounding laugh from the Glaive that had been astride the hulking, spiked side.

 

Both he and the Glaive returned to where the others were fighting.

 

The first of the Bandersnatch – the one that had been put on its side before the Glaive had been injured – was back on its feet. Ignis drew his spear back and moved to strike.

 

A heavy stomp by the creature he wasn’t attacking put Ignis off balance. It was close enough that something – the sound, the impact – shocked him. He lost that little bit of balance he’d had, and it short-circuited his senses.

 

Sound went soft and he lost all sense of up and down.

 

Then his vision erupted in the blue-white of a shield and the dull roar that he’d heard was a shout very from very close.

 

There was a thud in to the shield behind him, and before he could turn to look there was a wet-sounding impact, a cry of pain, and the Glaive who had thrown the shield around slammed in to him. He brought his arms up instinctively – spear gone from his hands – and caught the Glaive before they could fall.

 

It was Zoriedd. He knew even without the dusty blue that outlined her from the shield she was still holding.

 

A moment later the side of one of the massive tails slammed in to the two of them, and they were both knocked off their feet.

 

Ignis kept hold of Zoriedd as they were swept aside, angling them so that he landed beneath her.

 

“Fall back!” shouted another of the Glaive.

 

The note of panic in the words was enough to send them all up the incline.

 

“First fuckin’ sense today!” the Hunter shouted back.

 

Zoriedd pushed up to her feet, only to stagger. In a flash the other Glaive appeared by her side, one scooping her arm over their shoulders and dragging her off up the incline, the other turning their attention to the monsters that were still rooting about the battlefield for their prey.

 

Ignis followed the Glaive as they scrambled up through the brush. When the Glaive stopped, he crouched beside them. Hurried bootfalls came after, which had to be their Hunter, and then in a flicker of warp-light the third Glaive joined them, breathing heavily.

 

“She’s bleedin’ a lot,” the Hunter said.

 

“Not for long,” one of the other two Glaive replied. There was rustling, bodies shifting.

 

“Firebrand didn’t get her nickname from goin’ down easy,” the other gritted out.

 

The green glow of a healing spell lit the little circle of them, and Ignis could see, lined in the light of magic, Zoriedd’s body slumped across the other two Glaive. He could not see the injuries themselves – the green glow painted the expanse of her back in strange gradients of color that he had to turn away from – but her gear was torn open across from one shoulder to the opposite hip.

 

A gasp and a cough brought her back to them, and the other two Glaive – shorter, more slender… younger, he thought – breathed a sigh of relief.

 

“Back to the city,” Zoriedd said, coughing again. She pushed herself upright, slowly. “We’re going to need to see Luca.”

 

Then it was a trip back to the truck that had brought them out. The Hunter threw himself in to the driver’s seat while the four ‘fighters’ piled in to the back. Ignis put his back to the cab. Zoriedd lay slumped across her comrades.

 

He felt powerless.

 

So he said nothing as they drove back, not when the uninjured healer stood and raised a barrier around the truck during their passage, not when they all unloaded from the truck and the Glaive helped Zoriedd away with one of her arms on each of their shoulders.

 

He stood still and let them drag her off to be taken care of, feeling that looming darkness hovering overhead. He could already hear the questions that would come of it – _If you weren’t there, would she have even been injured? Did you just bench one of the mages? Did you really think you could handle a **Hunt** like this?_ – and gritted his teeth against the coming onslaught.

 

“They shoulda listened when I warned ‘em,” the Hunter muttered. “We’d never even take on three with so small’a team.”

 

“How many would you suggest?” Ignis asked, though even the act of gathering information about how to improve their chances on the next attempt felt half-hearted.

 

“At least four’a them, two a’you, and two Hunters,” the Hunter replied. “Gotta stun it by attackin’ tail and legs, then get at the underside when it falls.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ignis said.

 

“Wish they’d do the same,” the Hunter huffed, walking off.

 

Alone, Ignis had returned to his quiet little room, avoiding the crowd of people headed to the cafeteria.

 

Each footfall had been a crack in his stoic façade, and though he would not admit to it, he hurried away from the streets.

 

That was hours ago. Once he’d found his solitude, his knees had given out. He sat heavily on the ground as the simmering stew of questions his mind had for him boiled over. He could almost _hear_ them spoken aloud, and they took on his uncle Magnus’s voice, berating him for his failings in so absent minded of tones that the indifference cut as surely as the rebuke.

 

Here, beyond prying eyes, all the cracks in his façade became deeper, wider. No amount of attempting to plan how to improve or… wishing it otherwise were enough to combat the spreading fault lines.

 

His frustration with himself reached a fever pitch, and without even realizing his own actions, Ignis surged to his feet, tore his gloves off, and punched the rough cinderblock wall.

 

The shock of pain blossoming from his knuckles was vivid in the darkness behind his sight. His hands had always been sensitive, ever since he was a child. The stunning feeling was enough to cause the barrage of thought to stutter.

 

So he hit the wall again.

 

He hit the wall until the pain in his hands was enough to distract him from the day’s failure.

 

And then he slumped down to his knees and closed his eyes.


	9. Chapter 9

The pain was _spectacular._

 

Sadda’s quick healing of her injury in the field was enough to close her skin and stop the bleeding, but unlike his prowess with warping and with offensive spells, his healing ability wasn’t the kind that would do more than patch a person up enough to keep them alive. It didn’t get at the pain, it didn’t close up a wound more than a shallow sort of scabbing.

 

The whole trip back to Lestallum had been a silent agony. Zoriedd might have cried out, but she hadn’t the strength to do so. So she suffered in silence while the pain slowly made her whole body feel numb.

 

The numbness was enough that when they arrived she was able to get to her feet, but her wound tore again as Sadda and Jenica helped her from the truck to the little infirmary. When it did all the pain of the injury came back and her knees gave out. The two of them carried her the rest of the way.

 

“Almost there,” Jenica promised. “Hold on just a little longer, Firebrand.”

 

“Easy… for you… to say,” Zoriedd huffed back.

 

“You’ll walk better if you’re not talking,” Sadda replied.

 

His careful grip belied his gruff words, and Zoriedd took his advice. There were stairs to climb to get to the little corner shop that the Kingsglaive had appropriated for a clinic. It was slapdash and makeshift – all the supplies it had were split with the actual clinic that treated everyone else – but everyone kept it clean and made sure there was enough to take care of whoever came in.

 

For once, Zoriedd was in no condition to insist that her compatriots be attended to first. Sadda and Jenica got her up on to the padded table that took up most of the little shop, and Zoriedd collapsed on to it gratefully, cheek against the sheet covering the padding. At least being horizontal stopped the worst of the pain. Her muscles were slack and that was enough that the stabbing feeling of it softened to a dull, constant ache.

 

Jenica headed back out, leaving Sadda with Zoriedd as she went to find Luca. Once the door had closed, Sadda sat heavily on the bench against the wall.

 

“Hey, you ok?” Zoriedd asked.

 

“Don’t make me talk,” Sadda said, “I’m trying really hard not to throw up right now.”

 

Zoriedd turned, gritting her teeth against the pain that shot down her spine with the simple act of moving her head from her left cheek to her right, and took a look at the young man.

 

Sadda had an arm across his stomach where his uniform jacket was torn and stained with blood. Jenica had closed the wound, he wasn’t in danger there, but he was pale and sweating. His dark hair stuck to his forehead.

 

“Sadda,” Zoriedd said.

 

“Don’t tell Jen,” he said, looking up with a glow in his eyes, “I’ll see Luca after she’s done with you.”

 

“Promise me that, and I’ll consider it.”

 

“Oh, I promise,” Sadda said.

 

Between the fierce look in his eyes and the green tint to his cheeks, Zoriedd was inclined to believe him.

 

It was only shortly after that Jenica pulled the door open to let Luca into the clinic. Sadda jolted up from his slouched seat as the two women came in. Zoriedd tried to turn to look, but was stopped by Luca’s sharp, “Don’t you even!”

 

Sadda chuckled at her, and Zoriedd huffed.

 

“With all that damage, why aren’t you already bare to the waist?” Luca demanded in a disgruntled tone.

 

“My fault,” Sadda said, holding his hands up.

 

Luca turned two almond brown eyes at him. Zoriedd couldn’t see her expression from the way she was angled, but from the way Sadda stiffened, it was fierce. “You’re back here in an hour, you hear me?” she said. “Back me up, Jen.”

 

“Oh, he’ll be here _waiting,”_ Jenica said, a glower in her tone that was likely also on her face.

 

“Go get yourselves cleaned up while I work on the hero over here,” Luca said, dismissing them. “It’s going to take a while.”

  
Sadda gave a hasty nod, and then retreated when Jenica took his elbow and tugged him toward the door.

 

“None of us are replaceable,” Luca said, stepping forward and plucking at the torn leather of Zoriedd’s jacket. She hummed and then decided, “It’ll be easier if I just cut this off you.”

 

“I liked the jacket, but if it means I don’t have to move, make scrap out of it,” Zoriedd said.

 

Luca took the dagger from Zoriedd’s belt and began to make short work of what was left of the leather. “So, tell me what happened,” Luca said as she worked. “You look like you’ve been gored.”

 

“I was,” Zoriedd admitted.

 

Of all the other Glaive from beyond her hometown, Zoriedd found Luca the easiest to talk to. Not just because she knew how to properly grill a piece of meat because she was from Duscae, but she lacked any judgmental tone when she had to take the time to heal away scarring or knit tissue back together. She was patient enough that her healing magic worked flawlessly, and though there was no way for her to see to everyone, she always tried.

 

Since Luca had asked, Zoriedd let her eyes slip close as she recounted the mission for her. While she spoke, Luca’s fingers gently marked the outlines of the wounds in her back. Zoriedd didn’t do that to a patient before beginning to heal them, but she wasn’t nearly as thorough as Luca was. It was halfway through her retelling before the soothing feeling of Luca’s magic began to spread across her back and leech the pain away.

 

It felt so good that Zoriedd’s recounting fell away. She hadn’t realized how deeply the pain had sunken in to her until it was ebbing.

 

“You’ve got to be more careful,” Luca chided in a soft voice, “especially if you’re taking those two along with you.”

 

Zoriedd began to slur just slightly in reply, “Sadda and Jenica are very good at-”

 

“At watching _each other’s_ backs, yes,” Luca interrupted, “but they’re too good as a pair. It sometimes bungles up larger teamwork.”

 

There was a knock on the door.

 

“Who is it?” Luca called in answer.

 

Rather than call back, Libertus stepped inside. Zoriedd knew it was him because of the heavy bootfalls and the tang in the air that announced him. When Libertus was angry, his magic could flavor the air around him.

 

“Close the door,” Luca said.

 

Libertus obliged, but closing it made the little space of the inside of the shop and shuffled around until he was in Zoriedd’s line of sight.

 

He was already red in the face, and he hadn’t even said anything yet.

 

“Oh, here we go,” Zoriedd sighed, rallying her thoughts together for the inevitable confrontation.

 

 “I _warned_ you this would happen,” he gruffed. “I _told_ you he wasn’t-”

 

“You don’t even _know_ anything about what happened other than that I’m stretched across this table,” Zoriedd replied, glaring at Libertus from where she was stretched across the work table. “It was a _recon_ problem. We had too many daemons for the crew I took.”

 

“Recon or not, the crew you took should’ve been-”

 

 _“Wait one minute,”_ Luca said, stopping her work and the conversation with her sharp tone. “If the two of you are going to get into an argument, you get to do it after I’m done here and not before. Sadda’s next on the table and I want dinner before wall work tonight.”

 

“Sorry, Luca,” Libertus said, not sounding sorry at all. But he did give in to her very reasonable demand. “After this, Firebrand, we need to talk.”

 

Zoriedd rolled her eyes. “Let Luca get on with her work,” she replied. “Then you can huff and puff at me all you like.”

 

Once Libertus had gone, shutting the door behind him at Luca’s insistence, the two women sighed for very different reasons.

 

“Is he right?” Luca asked, returning to the gentle work of healing closed Zoriedd’s wounds.

 

“About what?”

 

“I overheard him arguing with you this morning,” Luca admitted. “Is he right about that Crownsguard guy… Scientia?”

 

“That he’s been injured? Yeah, he’s right about that.”

 

“I meant about him not being able to fight.”

 

“He needs some practice, but he knows what he’s doing,” Zoriedd said. “We got pinned down by _three_ Bandersnatch. Sadda had taken a tusk through the shoulder, and Jenica fell to healing him, so I had to shield the work. They surrounded us, and Jenica had run out of juice… I wouldn’t have been able to hold the barrier much longer, and Ignis drew one off so we could warp free. It would’ve been much messier if he wasn’t there.”

 

“But it was still messy.”

 

“He needs practice,” Zoriedd repeated, firmly. “He hasn’t ever fought beside Glaive in combat, and it’s been years since he even sparred with any of us. He’s the Prince’s companion.”

 

“And just when did he train with the Glaive?”

 

“Years ago,” Zoriedd replied with a little shrug that sent tingles up and down her back. She was glad to find that it was tingles and not stabs or burns.

 

“Lay _still,”_ Luca chided.

 

“Sorry about that.”

 

“How do you know he trained with the Glaive?”

 

“Because I was his sparring partner,” Zoriedd replied. “Well, not just me, but the Marshal made a request and he was rotated through a bunch of us in the 5th.”

 

“So an old-”

 

“I swear _to the Six,_ Luca, if you start with that romantic crap again-”

 

“- rival reappears in the midst of the darkness, when least expected.”

 

“Ugh,” Zoriedd groaned.

 

“Don’t sound so put out,” Luca said, “I’ve burned through all the books anyone’s willing to admit they have and so far I haven’t found my favorite author hiding out in the refugees.”

 

“It’s not so much that part that I mind,” Zoriedd admitted, “it’s that you’re looking to pair me off.”

 

“You could use some pairing off,” Luca replied. “Might take the edge off.”

 

“We’re a little short on free time,” Zoriedd said. “And Ignis isn’t-”

 

“So it’s Ignis, is it?” Luca asked.

 

“That’s his name,” Zoriedd said. “Don’t get cute. Ignis isn’t quite the type.”

 

“That remains to be seen,” Luca replied. “You never know, he might surprise you.”

 

“As much as I’m sure you’d enjoy watching that play out, I’m pretty sure I’ll have to disappoint you.” Zoriedd settled against the padding.

 

Luca got back to her careful work, offering only a last, “We’ll just have to see,” regarding their conversation. Her work was miraculous. The pain withered quickly, fading until Zoriedd could feel nothing, and then the tension and soreness evaporated as well.

 

“You’ll have to stay here while I get you another shirt,” Luca said when she finished.

 

A knock on the door had both women turning. Zoriedd expected Libtertus to be waiting with a huffy expression still etched in to his face.

 

It was Jenica.

 

She waved a t-shirt over the frosted part of the door glass, and Luca beckoned her inside. “Thought you could use a replacement,” Jenica said, dropping the shirt and a utilitarian looking sports bra beside Zoriedd. “I didn’t know your bra size, so I just… guessed.”

 

“Blessings of the Six on you,” Zoriedd said, using the Insomnian words for it. She pushed upright, feeling the bunch and flex of her back muscles, and was pleasantly surprised to find that there was no pain left. She peaked over her shoulder, and if someone didn’t know where to look for it, there’d be no way to find the faint line that traced the edges of her vanished wound.

 

Satisfied on that score, she pulled on the sport bra and t-shirt.

 

“Look, I fixed you up, but you should know by now that it’ll take a while before the healing really takes,” Luca cautioned. “No heroics, Zorya. Not for a few days at least.”

 

“Of course not, Luca,” Zoriedd said, sweetly. “I would never-”

 

“Save the bullshit for someone who’s not an old bullshitter,” Luca replied, giving Zoriedd a flat look. “Don’t push this. You’ll end up in traction, and that’ll bench you for months. You’d go nuts if we left you on shielding the pylons all day.”

 

That was no idle threat, and Zoriedd’s chipper smile sobered. “All right, all right,” she allowed, holding both hands up. “I’ll take it easy.”

 

“Damn right you will,” Luca said, “and to make sure of it, I’m telling Libertus that you’re off duty for a week.”

 

“I can’t-”

 

“Off the front line missions you can,” Luca said, straightening up to her full height. “And you will. You can take shielding duty for a while. It’ll make sure you burn off the magic without needing all the flash-bang teleporting and shit.”

 

There was a time and a place to argue, and Luca on a righteous rampage was neither of those. With an unsubtle roll of her eyes, Zoriedd nodded.

 

“Good,” Luca said. “Now get off my table. I have another patient.”

 

She climbed off the padded table, making space for Jenica to head out and usher Sadda inside.

 

There was still some sun left in the sky as she came out of the little clinic, and she stretched her arms carefully overhead as she came out. It was warm, and that felt good.

 

“You put yourself at risk, takin’ him out with you,” Libertus grumbled.

 

Zoriedd couldn’t tell if he’d calmed down to the grumbling, or if it was a prequel to a greater chewing out. She’d seen him in both sorts of moods, over the years.

 

“All of us are at risk every time we go out,” she replied, combing her fingers through the flyaway hair that had escaped her careful braiding.

 

“Not like that,” Libertus said. “He’s not ready to be out fighting, and you’re going to get yourself killed.”

 

That much even Zoriedd could admit was true.

 

“Yeah, well, he needs to train. Everybody has to do that from time to time.”

 

“This is a little different than that,” Libertus groused. “You don’t just train back from that kind of injury.”

 

“Do you even know what kind of injury it is, or are you still angry from Insomnia?” Zoriedd replied.

 

The shocked expression that took over Libertus’s features was more than angry, and a little voice in the back of her head asked quietly if that hadn’t been just a step too far for this argument. It didn’t matter, she didn’t care. She didn’t want to think about or hear about all of everything that was different now. She didn’t want to think about _who_ was lost. And if she didn’t hit this with the biggest sledgehammer in her arsenal, she’d never know if Libertus was actually at her about Ignis’s injuries or if it was his general displeasure with Ignis that had him grumbling and gnashing his teeth about a mission that could’ve gone wrong anyway.

 

“This has less to do with Insomnia, and more to do with you getting’ yourself killed,” Libertus snapped. “Why’re you so hung up on him, anyway?”

 

“Because we’ve got dark times coming, and I try to look out for my friends.”

 

Before Libertus could comment, Zoriedd stalked off.

 

The morale in the city was a delicate balance, with the civilians and the three factions of fighters all trying to keep things cobbled together. Libertus was important at keeping the Glaive on task and he’d drawn her out into the public attention as well when he’d started bandying about her old nickname and talking up her magic. If the two of them started tearing in to each other the whole settlement might start falling apart.

 

That was the last thing they needed.

 

And she was pretty sure if she gave Libertus a black eye for being hard headed he’d repay the favor.

 

It wasn’t like she could explain in a quick, easy way to Libertus what was between her and Ignis. They’d begun, years ago, as classmates training with King Regis. Then opponents. (That had been the Marshal’s doing as a part of Ignis’s training, she’d learned since.) Once they were both assigned to their respective positions they’d found a way to become friends.

 

No matter what Libertus assumed about her breakup with Nyx, she and Ignis were _friends._

 

Time and injury couldn’t change that, only Ignis himself could.

 


	10. Chapter 10

Ignis barely left the little store room he was housed in for three days following the failed mission, feeling the guilt overtake him about the outcome of the mission. They had failed to slay the Bandersnatch and what was worse, the group’s care in protecting him had contributed to the injury Zoriedd had gotten. There was no comment on it at the time – she had been quiet and the Glaive had spared no words for him – but Ignis felt that her injury was at least in part caused by his failings.

 

He lay in silence in his sightlessness, in the darkness of the store room beyond that, and wondered what he could say for himself now.

 

Again he’d tried to fight alongside someone and again he had failed.

 

How much of his success while fighting by himself was simply dumb luck or survival instinct rather than a return of his skills?

 

Just _how much_ of a liability was he to those around him?

 

To think that his own incompetence had once again injured someone so dear… it was too much to contain. He felt like he might overflow the confines of himself with it. Aware of the dangers of that sort of release, Ignis closed himself away with his heavy thoughts.

 

On the third day a heavy fist pounded on the door, startling Ignis nearly out of his skin. When he went to unlatch it, he knew who it was even before that same strong hand snatched him by the front of his shirt and dragged him clear of the doorway.

 

“Skipping meals doesn’t actually improve the status of the food supply,” Zoriedd groused, “if they cook it and people don’t eat it we have to feed it to the strays. We can’t uncook it.”

 

“How astute of you,” Ignis replied, planting his feet and stopping their progress. “I’m—”

 

“Don’t,” Zoriedd said.

 

“I contributed to your injury, I ought apologize.”

 

She sighed. “That’s fine, but I don’t want words, I want action.”

 

“I do not know-”

 

“Train,” Zoriedd said, “get over this. The hesitation isn’t like you.”

 

“Hesitation?”

 

“Don’t,” she said again. “I was there. You knew where the kill shot was, you just didn’t take it.”

 

To that, Ignis had no response. His lack of response echoed through him, and when the feeling came back it was heated.

 

“And how am I to train, when I am _like this_?” he snapped.

 

The echo of his voice on the walls of the close little alley slapped him in the face. He was enough himself under his anger to know that any words they exchanged out here would carry to half the used portions of the town. There was enough scrutiny of his actions that he need not add this to it. He took the wrist that was still holding the front of his shirt and tugged her back in to the store room with it. She came without resisting.

 

“I do not wish to hear _from you_ that I must work harder,” Ignis growled at her. “You have never had to overcome any adversity in your training, have never faced impossible odds for the sake of duty and known yourself to be wanting.”

 

“Just sparring with us doesn’t teach a thing about Kingsglaive training,” she replied.

 

If there were some tone to her words, Ignis was too worked up to hear it.

 

“Perhaps not, but if you truly are as accomplished with the King’s magic as you said to me that you were in the hospital, you cannot understand the struggle I underwent simply to learn all that was required of the future king’s adviser. And that was without an injury to handicap my progress!”

 

She did not reply to that, but a portion of his brain knew that there was one somewhere in her silence.

 

“I am not the man I once was, I may never be that man again!”

 

The silence that followed his shout was heavy with the sound of his breathing. And-

 

“Then as the man you are, what do you intend to do?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts.

 

The quiet, rational part of himself that he cultivated so carefully _snapped_ and his hand left hers. His palm pushed forward until it was against the center of her chest and kept pushing. He shoved her backwards until her back hit the door, slamming it shut. This was new for him, different. He was _angry_ , so much more than when Noctis ignored training or refused to eat vegetables.

 

Noct.

 

“I will serve my King,” he snarled at her.

 

“How?”

 

“With my life, if needbe,” he ground out. “You cannot possibly understand what that means, can you?”  


“This isn’t about me, it’s about you,” she said, voice even. She didn’t struggle against the weight of his hand against her, didn’t shove him away. “You told me not tell you to work harder. I never said that. I said you should train.”

 

“How do you expect me to do that!” Ignis shouted at her.

 

It was a preposterous question. Both because training had been his whole life and because of his injuries. He knew how to train, just not how to do it as he had become. And training to get stronger was what the three of them – all Noctis’s companions – had agreed to do so they could aide him in the coming battle.

 

His words, _his anger_ , was less at her and more at himself.

 

For once, he did not know what to do or how to do it.

 

The roiling, heated feeling inside him became a haze that tainted the color of his thoughts. He was useless, it seemed, not only in combat but also in managing even the most basic of things. He couldn’t even keep control of the broken thing he’d become and here he was snapping and snarling like a cornered coeulr.

 

“I don’t know,” she said softly.

 

Her careful words cut through the haze that had descended over his thoughts. In the clarity they brought, a bitter laugh spilled from his lips. She could not be expected to know the answer if he himself did not. Even at his most fragmented he knew himself better than anyone else did.

 

Anyone else, perhaps, but Noctis.

 

The very thought of Noct sapped heat of the anger within him. Ignis’s whole body sagged forward, as though only emotion had held him upright. Without it there was only the darkness of his sightless eyes. All his other senses seemed to switch off.

 

Ignis could not say how long he stood there, caging Zoriedd against the door with the taller bulk of his body.

 

The first sensation to come back was that of touch. Her hands against his side were a gentle pressure, but still he started. He had not expected that. If his mind could seek beyond that instant – _she has smaller hands than his but that makes sense as she’s a little shorter than he is, and her hands are cool but that could be the gloves she’s wearing because thick enough gloves wouldn’t transfer the heat_ – he might have wondered why one or the other of them didn’t jerk away or storm off.

 

Then he felt the stirring of her breath against his neck.

 

Her hands made their way around him. He couldn’t feel the heat of her skin through the leather, but the pressure of them against him was warm, comforting. She wrapped her arms around him slowly, holding him without pulling him closer.

 

“I don’t know,” she admitted, again. “But I’ll help you figure it out.”

 

Her voice was still low but with her words came all the sound that had fled his senses.

 

He came back to himself slowly. Just as slowly, he realized that he could feel her. The heel of his palm was still against her chest, fingers up over her collar bone. And, _Astrals,_ he had _slammed her in to the door_ when she’d taken a serious injury to the back.

 

“Your injury,” Ignis said, “are you healed?”

 

“I’m off rotation for a few more days,” Zorieddd said to him, smoothing her hands against his back, “but it’s just a precaution.”

 

He moved his hand upward, fingers coming around to the back of her neck and questing downward to where the daemon’s claw had punctured her back. His touch leaned her forward until they were almost against each other. He could feel the warmth of her through his shirt. He pushed aside her collar and traced the skin of her back, searching for a scar.

 

His fingers quested further, slipping beneath the fabric of the shirt she was wearing.

 

All he found was smooth skin.

 

“You’ll have to unbutton my shirt if you’re trying to take it off,” she said, breath tickling his throat.

 

Ignis stilled, realizing how close she was to him and how far his hand was down her shirt, but when he sought to apologize, what came from his lips was, “I would ask before presuming.”

 

“Ask.”

  
“I-”

 

_“Ask,”_ Zoriedd said again, more firmly. Her grip on him shifted, her arms tightening a little. She leaned in. Her cheek tipped against his neck, the warmth of her skin where it met flesh instead of his collar a surprise.

 

“May I check your injuries?”

 

“Is _that_ what the kids are calling it these days?”

 

Ignis chuckled, despite the awkwardness of the moment. She ought to be angry with him – for yelling, for causing her injury, for putting his hand down her shirt so boldly – and yet here she was making light of it.

 

“Only when they are, indeed, wanting to check someone’s injuries, I believe.”

 

“That’s a little disappointing,” she replied. “It’s been a while since anyone tried to get my shirt off that _wasn’t_ checking for injuries.”

 

“Hazards of the occupation,” Ignis offered.

 

“And I’m picky,” she said, squeezing him gently.

 

“Indulge me,” he requested, drawing his fingers up her back until they were against her neck once more.

 

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

 

“It preoccupies me,” Ignis replied.

 

“Fine.”

 

Beneath his touch she moved, turning her back to him and shrugging out of her shirt. He let his fingers wander down her back, finding nothing but smooth skin until it was covered by the strap and band of her bra. The fabric was stretchier and more durable than any he had experience with, but then those women were not the sort to meet him dressed in anything practical. He traced the band around her rib cage until he found the clasp, and-

 

He hesitated.

 

“Ask,” Zoriedd prompted him in a gentle tone.

 

“May I?” Ignis asked in reply.

 

“Yes.”

 

It took two hands to unhook the back of her bra, and when it was loose she sagged forward a bit with a little sigh. She lifted her arms when he prompted, and he slowly mapped out the expanse of her back with his hands. Back in Insomnia, when he’d visited her in the Fourth Hospital, there were only ever glimpses of her smooth, warm honey colored skin beneath the loose robe they’d given her to wear there so he had no recollection to compare what his hands were smoothing over with, but her skin felt smooth and unbroken.

 

For all her muscle mass, she was soft to the touch.

 

She sighed, leaning back just enough that his fingertips found her sides, brushing around to her ribcage.

 

Her skin was warm beneath his hands.

 

How long had it been since he had felt another person’s skin against his? His hands were particularly sensitive, they had been since he was a child and had that first accident with magic in the Citadel hallways. It had been years since he’d begun wearing gloves to prevent any accidental stimulus from affecting him. Since he was twelve, he’d chosen when to experience the world through touch.

 

But not this. Not her. He hadn’t taken the time or even given a thought to it.

 

He was glad for the oversight.

 

Even with his swollen hands, her skin against his was calming.

 

Ignis took a slow, careful breath and let his hands follow around until they rested around on her stomach and she was leaning back against his chest.

 

This couldn’t be called a check of her injuries any longer. Ignis could feel the tight braid she wore her hair in against his chest, and the warmth of her body against his. He leaned forward, putting his nose against her hair and wrapping his arms around her stomach.

 

Holding someone felt good.

 

Too good.

 

It had been too long since he’d had anyone in his arms, longer than that since he’d had a woman against him. His body reacted, cock stiffening in his trousers. Pressed this close to her, she couldn’t help but feel it. He closed his eyes, waiting for her reaction.

 

Her arms unfolded from her breasts and he felt the fabric of her bra brush his hands as it fell away.

 

“Zoriedd,” he said softly, breath brushing against her neck.

 

“This time _I’m_ asking,” she said, reaching down and taking his hands in hers. She brought them up to cup her breasts.

 

Ignis pressed his lips to her neck, gripping the soft swells she’d put his hands on. She leaned forward a little, and he shifted so that he was snugged fully against her.

 

“Yes,” she moaned softly, head tipping to the side to let his lips at her skin.

 

He gripped her breasts more tightly. She squirmed against him and he groaned in to her skin, rocking his hips forward so that he was grinding against her ass.

 

Zoriedd shifted, rubbing her ass back into the stiffening length of his cock. He kneaded her breasts, finding her nipples with his fingertips. Her head fell back in a louder moan as he worked the in time with the thrust of his hips against her.

 

It had been an age since he’d last had the pleasure of company, and he knew there was no way he’d been anywhere near this eager for sex the last time.

 

“Too many clothes,” she groaned.

 

Ignis kissed up her neck until his nose was against her hairline. “It has been… a while since I last…”

 

“Do you want to?”

 

“I do,” he replied, kissing behind her ear. “Do you?”

 

“Yes,” she said.

 

With that for encouragement, Ignis tightened his grip on her, drawing her back in to the store room and over to where the mattress was. She came, willingly where he led her, following him down until they were kneeling together, bodies pressed against one another from hip to shoulder.

 

Her hands released his wrists and moved down, past where he could feel them. Her arms against his wrists were all the clue he had of their destination until she shifted forward, taking her hips from his. He groaned at the loss of her warmth against him, but it shifted in pitch as he felt her pants bunch down her thighs. Her hips settled back. He lowered until he was crouching and she settled against his lap, hands reaching down to keep him in place.

 

She felt like perfection, but he knew that particular burst of poetics was fueled by needy arousal. Ignis fastened his lips to her neck to keep from saying anything rash. She made a soft noise, tipping her head to spread more of her neck for him.

 

Once he was sure he would not spill nonsense in her ears, he brushed his nose against her neck. “You’ll need to be wet,” he advised her, releasing her right breast and sliding his hand down her stomach.

 

“You’re off to a good start,” she said softly. He could hear a smile in her tone.

 

His fingertips found the top of her underwear. He’d barely touched her, and just this little brush of his hand had her hips shifting in response.

 

“We’ll need more than that,” he said softly in to her ear. He slid his fingers beneath the fabric and down between her legs.

 

“This shouldn’t be so arousing,” Zoriedd said, leaning back in to him and parting her legs to admit his hand. “You’re still dressed.”

 

“I’ll follow,” Ignis promised. He was glad that most of him was covered, if only because of how much he could _feel_. Her breast was soft in his left hand, the perfect size. As his fingers slid in to her folds she was hot, and more than a little wet. Her head fell back against his shoulder as he stroked her, a soft noise welling up from her throat.

 

He shifted his hand over to her right breast, giving her some support as she sank trustingly in to his grip.

 

She was intoxicating. The taste of her skin on his lips, the wet heat of her on his fingers, but it was more to it than that. There was a sort of charge to the air around her, like a thunderstorm.

 

Her right hand gripped his left wrist, trapping his arm against her, as she turned her head towards him and her left hand came up to tilt his head towards hers.

 

This was not a rushed, worried kiss in a servant’s hallway. Ignis’s thoughts stuttered to a halt as her lips pressed to his, open mouthed and needy. He surrendered to the kiss, parting his lips for her questing tongue when it came.

 

“More,” she breathed in to the kiss. “I need-”

 

Ignis pushed his hand further between her legs until his fingers could slide into her wet heat.

 

“Yes!” she moaned out, hips pressing forward to encourage his fingers deeper inside.

 

Only then, as she began to fall apart at his touch, did he regret not loosening his own clothing. His cock had gone from interested to hard, and it was trapped uncomfortably in his trousers beneath the grinding of her hips. When she came her whole back arched and her thighs pressed together, trapping his wrist. He relished the wash of feeling that overtook him as she found her release, from the scent of her skin to the zing racing up his arms.

 

Zoriedd sank down against him and turned her face toward him. Her cheek pressed against his neck and he could feel each shaky inhale and exhale as she sought to regain her breath. “Astrals,” she breathed, “I needed that.”

 

“Happy to oblige,” Ignis said, sliding his fingers from her and resting his palm on her stomach. He couldn’t help the shift of his hips against her, his cock eager to be put to use, so he pressed his lips against her shoulder.

 

“You know what I need more?” she asked, shifting her neck until she could press her lips against his throat. “The length of you inside me.”

 

“Yes,” he said, tightening his grip on her.

 

“How do you want me?”

 

“Bent forward on your knees,” Ignis said, trusting the closeness of the moment to make up for any coarseness of speech. He wanted her beneath him, taking him in and moaning in pleasure.

 

It was not a desire he had been conscious of prior, but the space between where they were in that moment and where they had last met in Insomnia felt like it contained all of Eos and lasted all of history. What had been between them before was no longer present, no longer an obstacle, and he could admit what he wanted.

 

“You’ll have to let me go for that,” she teased, thumb stroking the back of his hand.

 

He released her, and she straightened up on to her knees. “Take your shirt off,” she said, moving forward and away from where he was still seated. From the rustle of fabric she was finishing getting her clothes off. “I want to feel you against me.”

 

That was all the encouragement Ignis needed to strip his shirt from his shoulders and free himself from his trousers. He reached for her hip, finding the soft curve of her skin easily as he rose to his knees behind her.

 

A moment to line himself up and then he shifted his hips forward, pressing inside of her.

 

It was sublime.

 

That sensation of a thunderstorm intensified, feeling more like standing near a pylon, and understanding clicked in to place for him.

 

That was _her magic._

 

He leaned down against her back, letting her feel the length of him while he sorted through that piece of information.

 

“Fuuuuck,” she groaned, hips shifting back into his, pressing the hard length of him just a little deeper. “You’re big.”

 

Stroking his hands up her sides, Ignis cupped her breasts again with his hands. “How do you want me?” he asked, giving her earlier question back to her. He shifted his hips in a little circle, stroking her insides with the length of him.

 

“Hard,” she replied.

 

Ignis shifted his hips back and thrust forward, happy to oblige her request by leaning his weight in to the motion.

 

Zoriedd pushed her hips back against his, spearing herself on the length of him just that little bit more as he set a rough pace for the two of them.

 

“Yes!” she moaned, her voice competing with the sound of their skin slapping together in the small room. “More!”

 

A hungry feeling inside of him echoed her words. He stilled his hips, fingering her breasts. She groaned beneath him, a needy sound that was almost pained.

 

“Bend down,” he said, releasing her breasts to stroke his hands down her sides until he could take hold of her hips. “Drop your shoulders.”

 

She sank down to her forearms. He knew by the tilt of her hips when she got down closer to the mattress, and he sat up on to his knees and gripped her hips tightly as he slid out and thrust back in to her.

 

“Astrals!” Zoriedd called out.

 

The change in angle was a good one, then. Ignis marked the angle of her hips as he began thrusting in to her again. In response her walls fluttered around the length of him, and the tang of her magic in the air sharpened.

 

He let his head hang forward, chin dropping to his chest as he fell in to a steady rhythm. Ignis had never had a problem with stamina, which had delighted previous partners, and he’d entirely recovered physically from his accident.

 

Beneath him, Zoriedd’s moans took on a different pitch. Ignis leaned down to ask softly, “Are you close?”

 

“Yessss,” she hissed out as he thrust in and stilled his hips.

 

“I’m not,” he said.

 

Her head turned, one eye meeting his. “You-?”

 

Ignis smoothed his fingers over the soft curve of her hip, spreading his fingers out and stroking her thighs. She clenched around the length of him as his words sunk in. He pressed his palms in to her skin, enjoying the warmth of her skin against his. “How do you want it?” he asked, keeping his voice low and shifting his hips to thrust shallowly in to her, keeping her from coming down too far.

 

She took a shaky breath, hips angling back in to his. “Please,” she groaned.

 

“Shall I _pound_ you through it?” he asked, slipping his fingers up the inside of her thigh until he found where they were joined. He stroked her slick skin slowly.

 

His fingers drew a moan from her, and she clenched around him.

 

“I will still be eager for you after,” he confided.

 

“Still?” she asked.

 

“Still,” he agreed.

 

Her breath caught and her hips pressed greedily back against him. Ignis brushed his nose along her back as he fingered her more intently. “I can help you through like this, if you’d rather,” he said, enjoying the way she clenched around him. “Or would you rather wait and come with me?”

 

“Oh _fuck_ ,” she groaned. “I can’t- this won’t-”

 

“Now, then?” he asked.

 

“Please,” she replied, hips squirming.

 

“As you wish.”

 

He slid his fingers from between her thighs, retaking her hips as he straightened up. She gave a needy moan, pressing back in to him. Ignis obliged her, setting a rough pace. It wasn’t long before she came, clenching around him and moaning loudly.

 

The room was warm, filled with the sound of her shaky breathing. Ignis controlled his own, holding his breath as he reined himself in. Stopping was not what he wished to do, but he was not so far gone in to lust that he did not covet his partner’s enjoyment. The hot, slick clench of her muscles was so much more satisfying to him than any mindless spilling of his seed.

 

So he grit his teeth together and shifted his fingers on her hips as she relaxed beneath him.

 

It wasn’t long before Zoriedd stirred beneath him, pressing back on to the stiff length of him, and Ignis stifled his groan of appreciation at that.

 

“More,” she said, circling her hips to shift him inside of her. “Give it to me.”

 

Her blessing received, Ignis began to thrust again, leaning half over her as he eased the tension that had crept in during his stillness.

 

The sound of their bodies joining filled the little room. Zoriedd pushed up on to her elbows, close enough that if he dropped his head he could taste the salt of her skin as he filled her. He let his fingers stroke where he gripped her, appreciating the fullness of her hips as he rode her hard.

 

“Fuck,” she swore, hips jerking back in to his.

 

Ignis reached between her thighs to stroke her. “Again?” he asked her.

 

Her moans answered him as she shook with another release.

 

This time he stilled his thrusts entirely, letting his fingers guide her through. She was an overwhelming font of sensation – the slickness of her folds, the warmth of her skin, all the little details he could feel through his fingers, all the things he had wondered but kept locked away when she had not been his to fantasize about – it took effort not to follow her in to pleasure.

 

“Still?” she panted at him as her body relaxed.

 

He had not fresh enough experience to know if she meant that with satisfaction or with concern.

 

He smoothed his hands against her sides, releasing his grip on her. “Still,” he replied.

 

 “Yes, _please,”_ Zoriedd breathed, sighing a happy sound.

 

Ignis chuckled at her enthusiasm, stroking his hands along her sides. “I fear we may be in a predicament,” he said.

 

She shifted forward on her knees, then pressed backwards. It was a gentle motion, shallow enough to keep the length of him stiff within her. “Oh?” she asked.

 

“As we are, we might lose the day,” he said, lowering his voice, “with you spending repeatedly on the length of me.”

 

“I’d break,” Zoriedd said, “but it would be worth it.”

 

“That is not the way I wish to break you,” Ignis said.

 

“Ngh,” Zoriedd groaned, a little shiver running through her. “So, how do we solve it, Mr. Strategist?”

 

Ignis slid his left arm beneath her torso, reaching across to grip her right breast. He gathered her against him and sat the two of them upright so that she was once again seated on his lap, this time with the stiff length of his cock buried within her.

 

“Fuuuuuck,” Zoriedd swore, walls tightening around him.

 

“A change in positions,” Ignis said.

 

He reached forward, checking how far they were from the wall at the end of the mattress, and when his fingers didn’t find the stone he thrust his hips in to hers until she was up on her knees and walked the two of them forward.

 

_“Ignis!”_ she called out, more in surprise than anything else at the shuffling.

 

“The wall,” he said, guiding her hands up to it.

 

He settled them both back down, leaning back so that when she sat on his hips his erection was fully planted inside of her.

 

She shifted up and sank back down, experimentally.

 

The wet clench of her was incredible, and he stroked her torso in appreciation. “How’s that?”

 

“Sit up a little more,” she said.

 

Ignis obliged her, righting himself until she groaned softly and reached a hand to his hip to still him. She shifted back to let him take her weight as she rearranged her legs so that she was straddling his thighs.

 

He let his lips brush the back of her neck as she shifted, enjoying the scent of her skin. His hands traced the curves of her hips as he waited for her to find the seat she wanted.

 

At last she settled her rump against his thighs.

 

“Like that?” he asked, to be sure.

 

“Perfect,” she breathed, and then asked back to him, “How do you want it?”

 

“Fast,” Ignis said against her neck. Even soothed by the heat inside her, he’d been hard too long without release. He pressed his thumbs in to her thighs. “Spend me,” he begged in a soft whisper. “Please.”

 

“I can do that,” she promised. “Put your hands back to brace us upright.”

 

Ignis drew his hands away, somewhat reluctant for the loss of her warmth against his palms, but his reticence evaporated with her first bounce on the length of him. He leaned back just enough to keep his chin from knocking in to her as she rode him, rough and quick. The length of him sliding easily in and out of her slick heat.

 

Like this, between her thighs, he could let his head fall back as she took him in. She set a vigorous pace, one hand between their legs to keep the length of him within her even when she drew up far so that she could sink down hard on him every few times.

 

It was bliss.

 

It didn’t take long before he lost himself to her.

 

His orgasm came over him like a surprise. It had been long enough that the pleasure of it was sharp and overwhelming. He took a hand from holding them upright on the mattress and gripped her hip to stop her movements as it began because he would tear apart at the seams if she kept on like that.

 

He spilled himself inside her roughly.

 

Her hand moved down between her thighs, he knew she was chasing her own release from the way she shifted on him. Her hips stuttered in his grip and she let out a loud moan.

 

Spent, they both sagged. Ignis collapsed back against the mattress, Zoriedd tipped forward against the wall.

 

“Fuck,” Zoriedd said, articulately.

 

“We have,” Ignis replied, about on par with her verbal coordination in the moment.

 

She giggled at that, and it was only a breathless moment before Ignis caught her mirth.

 

When they died down, he loosened his grip on her hip, letting his fingers smooth against the curve of her skin. From the stiffness of his fingers, she’d likely have a bit of a bruise there. He-

 

The anger had faded, the lust that followed had spent, and clarity of thought came back to Ignis abruptly.

 

He had no idea what to say to Zoriedd now.

 

Ignis was by no means inexperienced with sex, but he had never found the time for dating or even for more casual liaisons. His previous partners had been discreet because their positions as courtesans required it, so he did not know what one said in a moment like this.

 

The moment after just having brought a long-time friend to orgasm.

 

More than once.

 

“I’m not sure which of us needed that more,” Zoriedd said, rescuing him from his search for words. She sat forward, sliding the spent length of him from her, and rested for a moment against the wall before climbing off of him.

 

He felt the loss of her heat when she moved away, and more he noticed the little electric tingle of her magic went with it.

 

That was certainly curious.

 

“Perhaps we both did,” Ignis said once he found words again. She had given him an opening that he was glad to take. He stayed flat on his back, though, too comfortable to move.

 

“I’ll buy that.” Zoriedd shifted on the mattress beside him, no doubt seeking out her clothes.

 

“Did you mean it?” he asked, recalling her words as his thoughts caught back up to him. “Or was your offer simply-”

 

“I didn’t offer it in the throes of sex,” Zoriedd said, giving up for a moment and sitting beside him. Ignis could feel the warmth of her knees a few centimeters to his left. “I meant it.”

 

“I may not be the best recipient of your assistance,” Ignis said.

 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” she said with a little sigh at the end that he could tell was all tease.

 

“True,” he replied. “But I should like it all the same.”

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone who knows me from my main pen name will know that I tend to do long, involved stories. I did not intend to get there with this one, because I'm writing a Choose Your Own Adventure game, editing two novels and two novellas for publishing next year, and have a cat that just had Very Serious Dental Surgery.
> 
> And then, there was Ignis.
> 
> I'm just going to put my hands up on this one and admit that the guilty pleasure won. There's going to be smut, later on. It will not be magical healing sex. My favorite lines from a very honest story said (paraphrased), "Sex doesn't fix this. There's a limited ability for it to heal anything."
> 
> Same goes here.
> 
> And yes, there is an entire Crown City Dump sized "before" that comes with this story, and YES, I actually FIXED the FFXV timeline to make it work, but this is the part that's the most fun for me (right now), so this is where I'm starting. 
> 
> Comments always appreciated. Flames ignored with grace and glasses adjustments.
> 
> Also, these are low on the editing scale. I'll be going back and fleshing details where they are needed as I go along.
> 
> Thanks for reading, folks!


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